Blood Secrets
by Of The Long Hair
Summary: Complete Secrets hurt everyone, sometime. The royal family has several, that even its princes don't know. When their home is attacked, they begin to realize things aren't always as they seem...
1. Carnage

First things first. I don't own anything from Tolkien. Obviously. If I did, I wouldn't be here, right?

I'll start out saying it, and I'll continue to say it, most likely. THANK YOU NEA! Nea, going under the pen-name Nea's World (which for some reason only comes up in search if you only put in neas-or at least for me), is the reason this is here. She wrote a very short one-shot which got me interested, and has helped smooth out some rough edges on this so it flows better for anyone who should decide to read this. She also convinced me to post at all. So even if you don't thank her, I do! Love ya, angel!

~~~~~~*^*~~~~~~

Carnage. That was the only word to describe the scene before them. 

Thranduil sighed and dismounted, telling his horse to stay put with a few words. Words were not needed to compel Legolas to join him on the ground, to survey the disaster that had befallen their people… and to see if there was anything they could do, anywhere they could offer more assistance than a few inadequate words of compassion.

"I have never seen so much damage done at once, Father," he murmured softly, frowning with concentration as his misty blue eyes studied the death, the blood, the horrible picture set out before them in macabre detail and color, grating sound and putrid smell. "Why did they do this?" His soft voice trembled slightly, quieter even than when Eirthriel was unwell.

"Do spiders need a reason? Hunger, perhaps. Or hate." Thranduil looked at the covered bodies which remained, as yet not taken care of—there were just too many for the elves who had survived the attack to have taken care of so quickly. Many were being carried back to their homes, but when entire families had been slain… If it had been hunger along which had caused the spiders to attack this smallish village, more of the elves would have been dragged off, instead of merely slaughtered. He sighed and shook his head, recognizing too many faces among the departed, those who had not yet even been covered. "Oleydya," he murmured, seeing a tragically young elf kneeling beside two bodies. She would have just come of age. She was at that stage when parents are no longer considered necessary, but are still desperately needed by their children to impart advice, even if the no longer quite children seek to deny both that fact and the advice. Thranduil silently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Come with us," he murmured after a moment's respectful peace, gently pulling her to her feet away from the two motionless and bloody forms. 

She numbly rose to do as he asked, probably aware neither of her actions nor his identity, and was helped onto one of the horses by Legolas before his son followed him deeper into the black woods. "Father?" he asked softly, before turning his head as a wave of smoke and ash flew into his face. He coughed softly and wiped at his eyes carefully, trying to dislodge the irritants without making it worse, considering the state of his hands, since they had already helped with the moving of some trees that had been felled over the path, preventing their aide from arriving in time to help the majority of these villagers.

"They were her parents. She has no other family on these shores. Had I been here when they fell, they would have known there was no need to ask it of me."

Legolas looked back at the bodies through watering eyes and sighed. There were no words to describe the sorrow and grief that clawed at elves when they were faced with the impossible—the death of their kin. It was a horrifying deviation from the way things usually were, the way things were meant to be. Elves were not born to die. It was not their way. "So much death," he breathed softly, having finally cleared his throat of most debris and emotion, though both made his voice a bit deeper, rougher. Anger, easier to deal with than sorrow, flashed in his eyes, darkening their edges with blue fire. "Why do the spiders attack us so venomously now? We have lived many years without hearing of any attacks, even among the woodmen on the western boarders, and yet in the last month there have been three mass attacks, and over fifty slaughtered elves… before this terrible count. When will their hunger be sated?"

"Perhaps it will not, Legolas. You are right, though. Why now? There is no reason, as the first attack should have fed an army of the devils, considering the animals they carried away." Thranduil shook his head once more, knowing the sad truth, before giving his orders and offering his condolences to the survivors. Any who so wished would be assisted in their move closer to the palace, to the safety of the guard that could not be reliably extended this far into the forest. 

But as for the spiders, as to the reason for these attacks… the truth was they might never find out why, may never know what caused these completely illogical attacks. It was nearly suicide for the spiders to attack the elves, and usually the nasty things fled from the sight of elves, and avoided places where fires created by the magic of the elves had been used to chase away the darkness of the forest. Yet suddenly they not only attacked, but attacked places strong in the magic of the elves. Places elves dwelled were always imbued with power. There was no reason, no logic. And armed with neither, he could not imagine why this was happening. With a shake of his head he called his horse and readied to return to the palace.

Legolas swung into place behind their new charge, sorrow gnawing at him as he felt hers. He sighed softly and tightened his hold around her, trying to reach her in her numbed state. After a while he fell silent, feeling his words were ineffective.

Having brooded all the way back to the palace, Thranduil was not surprised when his young son asked for a moment alone. They moved to the sanctuary of rooms beyond the throne. "Father, is there nothing we can do? No way to stop them?"

"The only way I see to stop this from reoccurring is to kill the spiders. That would require an intense effort—and skill beyond that any under my command possess."

With a frown growing darker upon his brow, thinking first of all those warriors who had made tracking spiders and killing them a pastime, then wondering why they were not what Thranduil wished. "Is there anyone with the skill you seek?"

Legolas watched his father's eyes cloud in memory. "Yes, my son. There is one." 

The elven king walked into a little used room that adjoined the throne room, and removed a medallion which hung on a mithril chain, which he had set out at the beginning of the attacks, just in case he would require it. It seemed he did indeed. 

Legolas intently studied the medallion, for he had never seen it before. He had thought he knew all the treasures kept in his home, but obviously he did not. It was of familiar craft—a smaller pendant of similar construction hung about his neck and had since he came of age. His was of mithril with a few green stones, shaped to form the leaf of the grandest tree in what had once been Greenwood. The medallion was also of mithril, he guessed, with a dark stone set in the middle of what appeared to be teeth. "Father? What is that?"

"A message," Thranduil answered, looking at the pendant for a calculating moment. With a faint smile he walked from the room and to the stairs located behind the throne, only ever used by the royal family and then rarely. The steps wound all the way to the top of the mountain.

Legolas had walked up these steps with Thranduil nearly every time in memory that his father had gone. Almost invariably a falcon would fly down, and rest upon the staff that Thranduil kept leaning against the high exit of the palace. Thranduil would take the message from the bird and would add something in way of a response to the letter he had already written, which would be sent out within a few minutes. 

Today was no exception. Within a few minutes the falcon arrived, bearing a letter. Without reading it, though, Thranduil held up the medallion. The falcon gripped it carefully in curved talons and flew away. Thranduil then looked at the letter, tucking it away before looking quizzically at his son, who had not moved to descend the stairs after him. 

"You have never told me who you write, nor how it is the falcon always comes without being called," Legolas murmured with a frown, slowly stepping forward. He replaced the things that usually leaned against the door before stepping lightly down the stairs. 

"No I haven't," Thranduil agreed. "The first shall be answered fairly shortly, unless all hope is lost. The second is so simple you should have figured it out a hundred years ago." When Legolas merely frowned his incomprehension, Thranduil sighed. "It is arranged that every year on the first day of spring the falcon will arrive here. It carries a message to me and takes one back."

"Back where? To whom?"

Thranduil simply smiled and shook his head, resting one hand on his younger son's shoulder. "You have infinite patience for anything as long as it doesn't require you to wait."


	2. Hunter, Tracker, Guide

Saralitazie: Okay, more, just for you. And Blondy's fine (how did you know?!?) LOL. 

As ever, thank's Nea!

~~~^*^~~~

The first week of spring had past, bringing warmer temperatures and another spider attack with it. The elves of Mirkwood were anxious, but every last one had heard, through one unofficial source or another, that the king was doing something. The best of everything were being brought to the palace—the best weapon smiths, the best hunters, blades men, archers, and guards. Word had it that even a specialist on the spiders—which no one had even known existed—was being brought in. That helped ease their hearts and made their normally bright spirits come closer to normal even through their grief for the lost and fear for their uncertain future.

"Father, why do you allow these ridiculous rumors to abound?" Teraien asked with a frown.

Thranduil smiled at his dark-haired eldest child, while lifting a brow. "Ridiculous? You think I do nothing to counter the attacks?"

Teraien frowned harder. "But a spider specialist? No such person exists." 

Legolas frowned from his place beside his older brother. "Indeed, I have never heard of such. Great hunters and trackers who excel in the decimation of the beasts, certainly. But a specialist?"

"Many can hunt spiders. It takes little skill to find them when they nest, even less to kill them once you have found them. Such things can be done by any elf confident enough in his skills to travel in the woods," Thranduil murmured, a tilt of his head reminding Legolas of the spiders the young prince had killed in the last hundreds of years. "But these are not the things we need to know. We need to know why they attack, how to stop them from attacking us, how to prevent it from reoccurring again in the future. If the only way is a mass extermination, then that is what we will have to do. In the meantime, we have much to learn, and many things that can be done, including creating a selection of talent for the choices before us."

The princes sighed softly, exchanging irritated glances. Legolas spoke after a while. "Father, you expect us to learn the wisdom you have, yet you do not eagerly impart it."

"Knowledge is the only thing that can be imparted, Legolas. Wisdom must be earned." Thranduil sat back and watched his sons for a moment, not missing their irritation. He was just glad they were getting along for the moment—maybe something good had come from the attacks, after all. He smiled slightly as they leaned back in their seats, resigned to silence as they watched the bustling activity around them. 

Elves were moving around rapidly, moving things from some quarters to new ones, cleaning out the old rooms of elves who had passed to the undying lands to make room for those who came in from the outer edges of the realm because of the spiders. It was an elaborate dance of colors and movements, which quickly drew the casual observer into a deeper study. Without much in the way of speech all the elves went about their work, for the business was emotionally wrought, as they often joyfully remembered the owners of the things they moved, and lamented the prompting acts—death and the call of the sea. Still, the promise of a grand dinner kept spirits from falling into the range of depression, as rows of tables were set out and long cloths in bright colors hung around the hall, including the banner of the royal family at the head of the room. As the evening wore on the majority of conversation perked up as the moving being done was too interrupted by the meal preparations to continue until the next day.

Even the most casual of observers would have known the precise moment something changed the fairly content room. Sounds of soft laughter-threaded voices fell off into silence near the great hall doors, and as the elves noticed that they turned to the back of the room to find out why. A figure dressed in the darkest green most had ever seen stood in the door, eyes hidden beneath a hood, but all present could sense the being was very watchful, and wary. 

Without a word, the being soaked up the atmosphere, the people, and then the sharp-eyed attention focused intently on the royal family at the far end of the room, not wavering away from them for more than a few seconds after that. 

"Father?" Legolas breathed, seeing the large falcon resting on the being's shoulder. The stranger began walking towards them, a surety and grace to the movements that informed all that it was an elf, and beyond a doubt a stranger. There was just something different in the being's air…

"Now you begin to understand," Thranduil murmured in approval, the soft tone seeming loud in the perfectly silent hall. He rose to his feet and dismissed the anxious guards with a motion of his hand. "Welcome," he called to their guest, who had just arrived before the throne.

The being bowed its head slightly, and then extended a gloved hand, which contained the medallion Thranduil had sent with the falcon. 

With a nod Thranduil accepted it back. "You have made good time."

"I came when the request was received." The head lifted as the being spoke, and the hall, which had begun buzzing softly with slight, curious conversations, once again went silent. The hood fell away to reveal what every elven ear—from those on the royal platform down to the passing elves carrying serving trays by the far doors—knew from the voice. The stranger was female. A she-elf, who spoke perfectly the tongue of the high elves, which was not common in that part of Middle-Earth any longer. "I hear it was not quickly enough."

"There have been several spider attacks on my kingdom," Thranduil agreed, looking at the youth. Lithe in form, a bit shorter than Legolas but of the same height as his other children, with hair and eyes as black as night. Older than Eirthriel, he knew, but he would not have guessed it to look at her. 

Without being told anything more, the elf nodded. "Very well. I shall—"

"You will take five with you."

Legolas watched in fascination as the elf's dark eyes narrowed when his father interrupted. "I am capable—"

"You will take five with you," Thranduil insisted once more, his fist closing tightly over the medallion, his voice hard.

The dark eyes flickered quickly to the hand and the medallion, so quickly that Legolas, despite the fact he was watching intently, almost missed it. Then her lips tightened. "As you wish, Thranduil."

Thranduil nodded, not in the least perturbed by this elf, a stranger to everyone present, himself included, calling him by his name instead of a title. Few were ever so bold, and strangers—never. "You may choose them now. Any in the hall."

She nodded and looked around. The eyes, so dark, flashed around the group, dismissing or analyzing in a glance. The entire hall had been studied and cataloged within a matter of mere seconds. Then, with an ease that surprised everyone present, with one possible exception, she pointed at and brought forth Dareklien, then Ertelen, and finally Miranol. No hesitation was apparent as she made her choices, pulling the young elves to stand before the king with a few quick motions of her hands. Then her eyes fell upon Legolas, and she lifted a brow, silently telling him to join the ranks. 

Teraien squirmed as Legolas rose and moved to stand beside the others without saying a word. "Wait a moment—"

Her dark eyes fell on him for an instant, silencing him as her eyes flickered back to Thranduil. "Any?"

Slowly he nodded. He had not anticipated her choice would include his second son, but she had a good eye for what was shaping up to be an interesting group. All about the same age, all nearly masters in their chosen fields—a tracker who was one of their finest hunters, a guard with ever growing blade skills, a smith who had shown great promise in the construction of new and novel things, and his son, a budding blades master and already for all practical purposes a master archer—yet all were young enough to know they were not the best. It was a smart move to choose such elves. They would better accept a new leader for a time, even if that leader was female—something that was unheard of in such an adventure as awaited them. 

With a sense of growing dread he awaited her final choice. "You," she called, her voice cutting through the hall which had become as still as death at her most recent choice. Elves nervously shifted around, looking at each other and then at her, but her eyes remained focused, and the uncertain elves soon slid away, many closing their eyes in relief when her eyes didn't follow their attempt at escape. "You will join," she stated softly, as the elves moved apart to reveal a rather timid female elf.

"That does it!" Teraien stood up, about to give this stranger a piece of his mind for attempting to order anyone about in the king's halls, but Thranduil laid a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Oleydya," he called. Slowly the young she-elf came forward. "Would you go?"

"Is it true?" she whispered. "Is this the spider specialist?"

The elven king and the younger prince caught a flicker of a smile on the stranger's face, but she said nothing, and the flicker died a swift death. Thranduil answered for her after a moment. "Yes."

"And she goes to stop the slaughter of our people?"

"Yes."

"Then I gladly join." There was suddenly a slight thread of strength in the she-elf before them that had not been apparent since the attack that had left her an orphan. 

Thranduil blinked in stunned silence but nodded, accepting that—like her mother before her—the 'spider specialist' certainly had a way of knowing a lot about a person merely by studying them for a few instants. "And the rest of you?" he asked, looking first at Dareklien. The elf nodded, followed by Ertelen. Miranol blinked and the tips of his ears colored as he opened his mouth.

"I don't know what help I can be, my lord, but if I can be of service, I also go gladly." Miranol shifted nervously on his feet, clasping his hands behind him until Thranduil turned his gaze to his son.

Legolas smiled faintly, and bowed his head in a more practiced move than any of the others, his voice strong and sure, instead of the quavering almost-stutter Miranol possessed. "I have been looking for a way to do more than merely helping with the organization of moving and of grand dinners." His voice turned amused as he looked at his father with a knowing smile. "Short of taking a store of arrows and hunting spiders until I am exhausted, this seems the best path. My bow is ready when required." He inclined his head ever so faintly when finished, indicating that was his last word on the subject.

Thranduil smiled slightly as well, knowing his son had not been far from taking the first path he had mentioned when the latest attack had been reported. Waiting impotently in the shadows, unable to do more than sit and wait for the next news report had never suited Legolas very well. He had too much spirit for that, too much concern for his people, too much energy and able strength. "Very well. If any of you have a problem accepting that once you leave the palace you will give the power of command over to this elf, now is the time to state it. You will answer to her, and her alone."

No one spoke, but all five were aware both their king and the strange elf watched them carefully for any signs of dissent, of uncertainty. None came, so the solemnity of the moment wore off. 

"Very well. When do you wish to leave, dear lady?"

She blinked and parted her lips as if to speak and then paused, frowning slightly. Her gaze flickered to the long tables set up in the hall, over the elves she had placed beside her. Over his son. Her lips tightened and she closed her eyes for an instant before releasing her breath in a silent sigh. "As soon as you will it, Thranduil," she murmured softly. 

He bowed his head slightly, silently thanking her for the extra time given with his son, whom he had not expected to lose to this. He knew she was ready to leave that instant, having wished nothing more when she arrived than to return the stone and assure him she was working to fulfill her mother's promise. "Very well. You shall set out the morning after the coming one. That should be time enough for preparations and farewells." He looked around at the young bunch and dismissed them all, except for the two she-elves and his son. He looked at the clothing she wore, and frowned slightly, before he recalled she had been on the move probably constantly in the last week to reach the palace so quickly. "Oleydya, would you take our guest to your room and see if you can find anything to loan her for the remainder of her stay?"

Oleydya bowed her head and curtsied before walking off. "Follow me," she murmured.

The entire room watched the stranger walk out behind Oleydya, many confused heads being tilted slightly in consideration as they tried to lay their fingers on what was different about her, what it was about her that commanded attention, that made everyone take notice. 

Teraien was the first to recover from the oddity that had just left their hall. "Father, you cannot be serious! How can a she-elf be of any use in this matter? Besides, you know Legolas should not—"

"Enough!" Thranduil glared at his still young son. "Do you doubt my wisdom?"

Teraien stood silently for a long moment, aware the entire room was waiting, listening intently though they pretended they were not. "No, Father," he answered after a moment, his eyes narrowed slightly though he lowered them in a subservient manner. "I would just like to understand what has prompted such a drastic decision."

"Drastic?" Thranduil asked, as the three walked into one of the royal rooms where no one else dared enter without being given permission. "When you wish to hunt in the forest, you find a tracker or a hunter to lead you into the best areas, to find the quarry you seek. To go on your own would be an invitation to danger or death, as you are unknowing in the ways and habits of the beings living within the darkness. Why, then, do you think such a guide shouldn't be found in this situation?"

"A female who knows more about the spiders than any hunter or tracker in the kingdom?" Teraien asked in disbelief. "Such is not possible. Where is this stranger from, anyway?"

Thranduil sighed at the apparent thickness of his eldest child. "What do you think on this matter, Legolas?"

"I would also like some answers, but she is a mystery I have a feeling that you cannot entirely give the solution to." Legolas was an archer at best, but he was also a bit of a hunter, and a beginning tracker, often joining Dareklien on his hunts. He recognized what most of the hall had seen without noticing. The she-elf's eyes kept watch on anything and everything, much as an animal would when wary. He just couldn't decide if her watchfulness was for prey or predators. He had also seen the flicker of speculation on his father's face, the surprise in his eyes when their 'guest' had arrived and when she first removed her hood. "After all, this evening is the first time you have seen her."

A slight smile was startled from Thranduil. He nodded his head slightly, a wordless compliment to Legolas for his attentive study of the exchange. "You are correct."

Teraien blinked. "Wait a minute. You never met her before? Then how do you know she can do what she says she can?"

Legolas lifted a brow, one corner of his mouth turning in a slight smile as he turned slightly to face his brother. "I must have missed the part where she claimed to be able to do anything." 

Teraien frowned darkly. "It is known she is the spider specialist—Father admitted it to the entire hall. How can she be? Such a young she-elf should hardly know the forest in its dark places. How can she know its darkest, deadliest creatures? She would be slain quickly if she went near any spiders."

Thranduil and Legolas both shook their heads slightly, but it was Legolas who answered. "You are wrong, there, Teraien."

"How so, Leaf?"

Legolas smiled faintly, not letting his brother irritate him, closing his eyes for an instant to recall her walk. "I just think she knows the forest much better than you would allow."

"Indeed she does," Thranduil agreed. "After all, she has lived her entire life deep within the forest."

"What?" Teraien asked, his eyes widening. "Elves actually live deep in the forest in times like these? But the spiders, and orcs, and the river, and wolves, and wild-men… It's dangerous."

"It is dangerous, which is why I have called her here. She will lead the group on their search for the spiders, and for the reason behind these attacks. With her knowledge of the woods and its creatures, their passing shall be much safer within inches of the spiders than it would be for them to merely walk within the edges of the woods on their own."

Teraien fell silent at that, for he could find no coherent way to continue expressing his doubts about having a she-elf guide anything. Thranduil drew a deep breath in, relieved the slight conflict was finished. He hadn't expected his actions would concern his son so deeply, but at the time of his consideration, the intended actions hadn't included his younger son. Which concerned _him_. 

Not because Legolas would be going. No, it irked him that he had never considered she would take him. Legolas had all the characteristics someone intending to hunt spiders and live in the forest would desire in a minion. He was increasing his skill with the bow to beyond the master levels, which required from him only another two hundred years of age before he would be given the title with a mere formality of a test, since he had already out-shot one of the declared masters. He hunted well and regularly, which included the tracking skills Thranduil had pointed out to his elder son would be needed. He was young enough yet that he would bow to the power of a superior in a given situation, despite his royal blood. 

All in all, he was a perfect candidate to be chosen by her; a young warrior who would give command of himself over to her without the stigma many older, true masters would have felt because of her gender or youth. But Thranduil hadn't considered she would choose Legolas, because no other elf, of the wood or any other elven realm, would have dared placing his son in potential danger. For her, though, it wasn't a matter of blood, but of skill, and the desire to hunt the darkness threatening their home. 

Although in truth, she may have chosen Legolas because he was the prince. By taking him on she accepted the desire to be of use Thranduil could see in the young elf prince's eyes, and at the same time solidified the thinning connection she had to the elves of Mirkwood, and to him. She had come to pay off a debt, and would do so with grace, accepting the wishes of his son while agreeing to do what he had called her to do. In that way the debt would be not only repaid, but overpaid, leaving him in her debt. 

_Her mother taught her well_, Thranduil mused, before he sent his sons to their rooms to prepare for the meal. 


	3. Predator

Legolas smiled at the scene before him and inhaled deeply, drawing the scent of flowers and food into him, trying to fix the time in his memory more clearly than would happen naturally. He took in all the colors, the swirling dresses of the serving she-elves, the elves who were dancing as they waited to be sent to their seats, the platters of food being set upon the tables as the final moments before the meal approached. 

"Is it true?" a soft voice asked behind him. 

He smiled at the other's presence, turned slightly to greet her with a kiss to her forehead. "Yes."

Her eyes lowered, but she said nothing for a long while. She knew he wanted a chance to get away from the palace, to help the only way the second son of a king could. She knew he didn't care about the danger in his hatred for the things that made the forest dark. Swallowing back all her own objections, she took his hand and moved to his side. "I'll miss you." 

Some small amount of pain flickered through them both that she couldn't say 'we'll all miss you,' but it had been many years since either had thought about trying, truly trying, to change that. They could both see it wouldn't happen, even without the gift of foresight some elves possessed. 

Legolas shook melancholy thoughts away and squeezed her hand gently. "Save a dance for me, all right?"

"You need but ask," she replied with a sad smile. 

Teraien came in behind them, his eyes narrowing and his jaw tightening as he saw the tender moment between his younger siblings. They were as close as brothers and sisters could be, partially because there were only a few hundred years difference in age between them, partially because their mother had doted on them both. 

Teraien may not have been the wisest of elves, but he knew that if not for his age, Legolas would have been the one to rule after their father left for the havens. He just didn't understand _why_. Thranduil had always offset their mother's love for her two blond-haired children, showering his eldest son with praise and attention. But after their mother had died so tragically, Thranduil had sat back and taken a hard look around, and seemed to have decided he no longer liked what he saw in Teraien. 

Since then the prince had done his best to oust Legolas, not to much success. If anything, the little twerp's quiet acceptance of the constant degrading he was subjected to seemed to increase his esteem in their father's eyes. 

With a snort he looked away from his brother and took in the ladies of the court. Eyeing them for a while, he decided he may as well figure out which one he would go after for the night. He dismissed his more recent conquests without a second thought. Recent being within a few years. There weren't many left who fell into the eligible category, but since there were more arriving every few days because of the spider attacks, he had fresh prospects everywhere he looked as more filed into the hall. 

There came the young elf Legolas had brought back from one of the boarder villages. She was a tad too young. If he bedded her, Thranduil would be told by Legolas, or his dear sister, and Teraien would get an earful. However, the elven ladies laughing at her simple country gown were old enough, pretty enough, and, if the way they watched him was any indication, susceptible to the charms of any elf with a title such as his. 

It was a good thing Legolas had never figured out the pull a title, especially one as impressive as 'prince' could create in she-elves. 

Teraien's dark eyes fell on a she-elf he had not noticed before, either in the chaos earlier or at any other time. She had purely black hair pulled back with a series of small braids that all wove their way to the back of her head, where the rest was free, her unbound hair nearly too short for a she-elf, barely longer than any warrior elf's would be. Her ears tips were a bit more defined than most, a wood-elf beyond any doubt. Still, with her pale skin and dark hair and eyes, she stood out, despite the dark gown she wore, which hung ill fittingly at best. A hand-me-down, no doubt. 

Absently he was aware of his father entering, and took his seat at his father's right as his baby sister sat on Thranduil's left. Legolas, as always, sat beside him, to his eternal annoyance. When he turned his eyes back to the she-elf, he was more than a bit surprised to find her walking towards the royal table, as if she belonged there. She tilted her head slightly at Thranduil, a question inherent in the motion.

Thranduil smiled and motioned at the empty place beside Legolas, since Oleydya had sat down beside Eirthriel, who always sat where she had when their mother was alive. That chair had remained empty since she died, and would always be so. "How have you found the palace?" he asked once she had been seated by the ever gallant Legolas.

Teraien blinked in surprise when he realized this she-elf was the spider specialist. She looked a good bit different in female clothing, ill-fitting or not. "Closed in, cold." She settled stiffly into the chair, and her eyes searched those of the other elves at the table. Her eyes paused on Teraien for an instant, before her lips tightened and her eyes narrowed. "I am sure the forest seems much that way to you, though," she added belatedly, turning her eyes to the crowds. 

Thranduil smiled slightly, nodding his head. "Everyone has their own idea of freedom."

"Yes," she agreed. "Thranduil?"

"Hmm?"

"Could I ask you something?"

"By all means."

"How did she find it here?"

Thranduil's eyes grew cloudy, as he gazed into the past, pulling up memories no one else could see. "She thought it well at first, but grew to despise its closed coldness," he murmured, speaking of a being no one save the two involved in the conversation knew anything about. 

"Who is this?" Teraien asked softly.

"An elf I knew long ago, Teraien. Before you were born." Thranduil sighed softly and sipped his wine. "Do you need us to provide you with anything, Nenya?" 

The she-elf shook her head. "I imagine my group will have things they wish to bring, but I have everything I need." 

With that the unknown but now named elf turned her attention firmly to the hall, her eyes taking in everything, never resting for long anywhere. When the meal had been finished and the elves fell to dancing, she sat back and watched with great interest, it seemed to Teraien, who had been watching her with equal interest. It would be a lie to say he didn't still feel her pull.

Deciding a she-elf was a she-elf, spider specialist or not, he offered her his hand without rising from his seat, since Legolas and Eirthriel had already left to dance. "Would you care to dance?"

She lifted the brow nearest him but didn't turn to look at him. "Certainly not," she murmured, examining the movements of the elves. All of her new group were out there dancing, and she watched them most of all, sizing them up again. 

With a mutter of disgust Teraien left, allowing Thranduil the chance he had been wishing for. He called Nenya to his side. He had to smile when she moved to the chair that had been Eirthriel's instead of taking Teraien's or that which was forever reserved for the queen. 

"He does not know, does he?" she asked quietly after sitting, leaning towards him to make up for the distance.

"No," Thranduil murmured. 

She shook her head in annoyance, letting out a breath as the elf in question slipped into the hall leading to royal chambers with a she-elf on his arm a while later, a few of the hall ladies watching the disappearance in disappointment. "Do you wish me to replace him?" she asked, her eyes falling briefly on the other prince, who was stealing another dance with his sister.

Thranduil considered the offer for a moment. "Could I ask why you chose him?"

"I only chose those who wished to go." She turned her head slightly, focusing on the prince for a fairly long moment—at least compared to her normal lightning study. "He wanted to help more than most." She glanced at Thranduil for a moment, her eyes solemn and dark. _With good reason._

The words hung on the air between them, unspoken. Thranduil sighed and looked at the son he had found the spark of greatness in when his world had been darkest. "Yes," he agreed. Then he looked back at the young elf sitting beside him, who looked exceptionally young if one found her in a moment of inactivity, as long as they didn't look at her eyes. But the instant she moved the idea of innocent youth was abolished, just as it was if she turned those dark, serious eyes on you. Eyes that had seen much of darkness, too much to ever be considered as young as her years. "Would you dance with me?"

"If you wish it," she agreed faintly, a slight frown coming to her brows. When Thranduil stood she allowed him to take her hand without the hesitation he could see in her eyes. 

Thranduil watched as she picked up the basics of dancing fairly rapidly. "You learn quickly."

She snorted softly and looked around. "Not well, but quickly," she agreed. After a few dances, he led her back to the table, where she thankfully slid back into the chair he had given her. "Is there no place out of this stifling hall?" she asked as the dances continued, her eyes darting around the room in an over-wary, almost panicked fashion. 

"Of course there is," Legolas answered from behind her. 

She didn't jump—she had known he approached, her head tilting slightly to determine the owner of the steps she heard. "Would you be so kind?" she asked caustically, glaring at the prince. 

He tilted his head at her in no small amount of confusion before bowing slightly and holding his hand out for her, as if she were any lady of the court who had made the request. 

With a sigh and a quick roll of her eyes she took his hand and allowed him to lead her out of the great hall. They passed several couples who were returning to the hall with similar looks. The two heading in that direction looked at each other in confusion, and hurried to their destination, wishing to know why fear was in the eyes of all who came towards them. 

"What is it, Ertelen?" Legolas asked, pulling aside his friend as the elf hurried towards the hall. 

"Wolves, Legolas," he replied quickly, heading back.

"Wolves?" Legolas asked the retreating back of his dark-haired friend. 

Nenya had not stopped to wait, despite the fact her princely escort had paused in his accompaniment. Soon he was beside her once more, wishing to know if his father should be informed about whatever was happening. They stepped out onto the stone balcony that was cut into the side of the mountain, the wind rushing around them in a chilly, moist breeze. It had been raining, the scent heavy on the air. 

But the reason so many elves had retreated was not in scent or sight, but in the long, piercing cries that shivered and warbled on the icy wind. Legolas shuddered at the sound, for he had never heard such before. A lone wolf occasionally was heard in such cries, but never a medley such as now wrapped his ears. It was haunting, chilling his blood and numbing his bones. He began to return to the hall as the others had, but stopped when he didn't see Nenya ahead of him. 

He glanced around, assuming she had preceded him in their return, when he found her standing instead near the edge of the balcony with her eyes closed and a slight smile on her face. Her dark hair was whipped about her in the wind, but she was quite unaware of it, listening to the wolves as if theirs was the sweetest melody she had heard. 

"We should return!" he called over the wind.

"Why?" she asked softly, tilting her head slightly towards him so she could better pick up his words as the wind carried hers to him. 

"The wolves…" he trailed off, watching her. The cries didn't disturb her in the least.

"A lovely lullaby, isn't it?" she murmured, her smile growing, eyes opening for a moment to pierce him with sparkling black eyes before the slits closed and she turned back to facing the wood, her head tilting slightly up to feel the starlight upon her face as the wolves continued to sing. 

In that moment he knew the answer to the main question watching her had raised in him earlier. She was a predator. As the wolves' song rose in pitch and the number of voices increased for a moment, a thousand other questions rushed through his mind. Now wasn't the time to ask. He was in no hurry, though. After all, in a little over a day's time he would be leaving his place in the palace to join her in the search for a reason to the spiders' fury. 

~~~^*^~~~

Hey! Anyone out there?

Harumph. Well, Nea's finally satisfied with this chapter. I was the first time. I'm neither the perfectionist, nor the patient being she is. With that said, is anybody reading this? If not, I'm just going to give this a rest. In other words—no sign anyone cares, no updates. 


	4. Into the Wood

Alright, I'm (obviously) continuing. As long as I get a hint of interest, I'll always keep going, unless my muse dies. That would really bite. Anyway, I went back and fixed some errors, and hopefully Nea and I caught them all in this chapter. Thanks, everyone! (And Nea, of course)

~~~^*^~~~

Nenya tilted her head, hearing clearly the various sounds of her group as they headed to where she was hidden by the shadows in the corridor near where she had instructed they meet her.

"Why'd she choose you, anyway?"

That was Dareklien, undoubtedly speaking to Oleydya, since the others she had chosen had already been friends. Oleydya was new to the area, and though she had been treated well by the golden-haired descendants of Thranduil, she had not yet made any friends, though she was quite talkative when alone with someone. As they passed where Nenya had halted to hear them, she shot her foot out, tripping Dareklien as Oleydya visibly struggled for an answer to his accusatory query.

Dareklien looked up from his prone position on the floor, his eyes snapping with blue flame as he looked for the one who had tripped him. When he saw her he gave up some of the anger, but more remained for a time, unabated by her future position as his commander.

She looked steadily down at him, watching as the anger slowly seeped out entirely as he met her cold black gaze. "If anyone questions my choice in the members of my group, they question their own presence. Does anyone wish to be released?" At the last words she looked around slowly, fastening her gaze on each one in turn for a long moment. Most shifted uncomfortably and looked away after an instant, but one held her gaze until she looked to the next. 

When no one said anything, she walked over Dareklien to the entrance of the cavernous palace. There Thranduil was waiting to wish them all farewell, and a safe one at that. She almost regretted her decision to include the prince when she saw the misty-eyed farewell given him by both his father and younger sister, but knew it was the right call as he shouldered a bow that was more functional than many she had seen in the halls. There was virtually nothing ornate about it, which she found eminently preferable to Teraien's silver and jewel encrusted bow, which she doubted he knew enough about to keep from shooting himself in the foot. 

Thranduil looked at her for a long moment, and sighed softly. "I know of nothing you would find of value to give you. Therefore I can only give you something I value a great deal. I give you command of my middle child until this business is settled. I shall pray you all come to no evil or harm."

Nenya bowed her head, and saw the looks of speculation on the faces of the weapon masters she had ignored when choosing her group. They didn't know if she was worthy of such an honor, one, she heard one whisper to another who was doubtful of her skill or worth, he had not bestowed upon anyone else in any circumstances. 

Saying nothing—and what was there to say?—she left the hall, left the mountain, trusting her group would follow, but listening for their footsteps nonetheless. Argile was circling above them, and would remain in the sky until they stopped for the night. She confidently walked into the welcoming forest, unaware of the hesitation behind her.

Miranol and Oleydya hung back the longest, finally gathering the courage they needed to enter the dark forest. The others, Nenya excluded, had drawn their weapons the instant they stepped inside the woods and were warily watching the world around them. 

After a few minutes Oleydya couldn't stand it anymore and raced to Nenya's side. "Milady, why—"

"I am not a lady, Leyda. I am Nenya."

Oleydya blinked, but quickly recovered. "Why do you refuse to draw a weapon?"

"This section of the forest is unoccupied by evil. Only the trees here are dark, and they cannot harm any who realize that." Nenya's dark eyes took in the frightened ones of the young elf beside her and a frown came to her brow. A quick glance behind her informed the elf the entire group of elves she had brought with her were somewhat frightened. The tracker and prince were the least among them, and hid the fear they did feel behind better masks than the rest. Miranol and Oleydya were obviously as nervous as rabbits that ran into a wolf den by mistake. "You need not be so wary," she informed them all. "Argile shall warn us if anything approaches."

Dareklien looked up with a frown. "How can he see anything if he flies above the trees?"

"He isn't," she countered, nodding her head at the dark shape flying quickly through the trees at the edge of elven sight. There were other ways she would know if anything approached, but they needn't know that. If ever they found out, it wouldn't be for a good while. 

When they caught sight of her reason for being so calm, they released their white knuckled grip on their weapons, but held them for many hours. She said nothing about it, deciding if it made them feel safer, they by all means, let them wear themselves out for nothing. They would likely sleep well tonight, at any rate. 

As Oleydya felt herself about to collapse for exhaustion, Nenya turned and motioned for them to halt.

"What is it?" Dareklien asked softly, looking warily around them.

"I thought you might be hungry, and wish a break," she murmured in answer, glancing at them for only an instant before she let out a shrill whistle. Argile swept lower, taking the bit of meat she had held out for him before returning to the trees to eat it as she reached for some of the travel food she had bought with her. A form of way bread that lasted longer than those made by the beings in the palace, it was a family secret, one of many that would probably be relinquished to this group of elves before all was said and done. 

The four male elves looked at each other in some confusion, but slowly dug out their own way bread. Oleydya had already eaten hers, and was drinking from her water skin. Then she rested with her back to a tree, and watched as the others ate. 

Or in Nenya's case, stood silently, waiting for them to be ready to continue. 

Dareklien sighed softly and got to his feet, sensing Nenya was just waiting for them all to get to their feet to continue. She didn't even have the decency to appear a little tired from the last several hours of fast-paced walking. 

Not that it seemed fast paced when one watched her. She had a long, fluid gait that reminded him of some wolves he had watched for a time when they wandered near his village. It was effortless movement, pure grace and controlled power. He got the impression she was slowing the pace for their sake… and failing miserably. 

"How much farther are we going tonight?" he asked as he wiped some of the water from his mouth with his sleeve. 

She didn't look back. "As far as we get."

All right… "How far would you like to get?"

"A lot farther than we shall."

Dareklien rolled his eyes and looked back at the others ruefully, who smiled at his attempt to get her to talk to them about anything. 

Oleydya got up and approached the silent she-elf. "Why did you choose me?" 

Nenya smiled faintly. "You wished to go," she responded simply.

"But someone with skill in the art of war would be more helpful, wouldn't they?"

"Not necessarily," Nenya denied, shrugging slightly. "If nothing else, you can be their laundress and cook, since I'm pretty sure their stench would attract the spiders if they didn't die of starvation before their predators would arrive if they were left to their own devices." Still, a quick glimmer of a smile suggested to Oleydya that making sure the males were fed, clothed and clean wasn't the only reason a she-elf had been chosen as the final member of the small group. It also said that was all she was going to be told for a while.

She sighed softly and shrugged, falling into step beside Nenya, who had started off once more. "Where are we going?" she asked after what seemed like an eternity of walking, giving a little half-jogging leap to catch up again.

"Deep into the heart of the forest. Where anyone traveling must walk for at least two weeks to reach or leave."

Legolas frowned. "Then how did you make it so quickly?"

She smiled faintly, turning to look at him. "I travel quite quickly when alone."

"You want to go faster? We can." 

She looked at Ertelen for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. If you fall behind, follow Argile." She took off at a run. 

The elves blinked at each other for an instant, and then raced after her, but it was a losing battle. One by one they fell behind, not one being able to get close enough to see her to be certain they were in fact running in the correct direction. By the time Argile had rounded most of them up, a fire was waiting where she had eventually stopped, and a few bits of meat were cooking. As her lagging group slowly showed up she handed out bits of meat, frowning slightly when Oleydya didn't appear with the rest. 

When the minutes drew out too long, she let out a short whistle, which the resting bird woke to with a soft flutter of long feathers. She spoke with him quickly, the words going into one ear and out the other of the elves present, since none spoke to birds. Argile stretched his wings, and took off once more. A few minutes later he returned, speaking with her in quick tones. She replied at once, extracting more information.

With a muffled curse she ran off once more, calling over her shoulder for them to go ahead and take some rest. The male elves looked at each other, out at the black forest, their small fire that didn't seem to wish to be there, and back at each other. They shivered and huddled closer to the fire and each other, none even thinking about truly taking rest even before the melody of the wolves lifted in the air, piercing their ears and chilling their bones. 


	5. Lost and Found

A new chapter, just cause I'm soooooo happy to be back at school. Sigh. Spring break is just too damned short, in my opinion. At least mine wasn't as hectic as Nea's, though she still managed to find a computer to e-mail me her revisions (thanks, girl!). 

A Monkey's Harp: Well, I've been toying with the story for a long, looong time before Nea finally harassed me into actually working on it. She is right—writing is a great form of stress relief, though my muse seems to go on hiatus every time I could really use her. Anyway, I was trying to think up a name for my character that was strong yet not a common human name, and Nenya sounded elven to me… so I used it. Later—before Nea even saw the beginning framework for the story—I found out about Galadriel's ring (like I said, a loooong time has passed since I fist got this story idea stuck in my head). It really bugged me for a while, and I tried to come up with a different name, but I never could find one that seemed right for her. Then I figured, what the heck, many won't even know about the name, and those that do will know it's the ring of adamant—which is fitting for my character, in my mind. 

Everyone else, thanks for your reviews… and I'll try to remember to fix that error. Thanks! 

~~~^*^~~~ 

Oh, she was lost. Lost, lost, lost, lost, lost… and did she mention lost?

Oleydya had been keeping up with the others rather well for a while, considering, but her hood fell back, and since it was a present from her father's kin—a cloak of the Galadhrim—she wanted it to cover her head in hopes it would hide her from the spiders and orcs. When she reached up to settle it back in place, though, it fell too far forward, covering her eyes for an instant.

An instant too long. 

She had spit out the dirt that was in her mouth before she realized she had tripped over a root. She got to her feet and shook herself off, before the entire truth hit her. She was now so far behind the others she had no idea where they were. She looked ahead and began running, faster and faster in the hopes she would catch them up, but she never caught sight of them. She didn't see the stupid bird, either. Follow Argile. Sure. She would, if she could find the blasted thing. 

So, she was lost. Very lost, she knew, as the cries of wolves shivered on the air around her. It was stuffy in these woods, so stuffy. She felt she almost couldn't breathe. 

She remembered sheepishly after a moment that she was running, so she slowed to an easy walk, deciding running aimlessly wasn't doing her any good, anyway. She continued to walk as she caught her breath, unwilling to stay in one place as the wolves seemed to come closer, always feeling just out of sight. 

Soon she was unable to walk anymore, so she looked around for a safe place, but could see no more than a few feet ahead of her. The trees scared her more than the wolves did, because they were dark and probably held spiders. So she swallowed, sat down at the base of the tree, and drew her cape about her, wishing so many things she was almost dizzy with it.

She wished her mother hadn't insisted her father move to Mirkwood when they married. Then she would have been born in the Golden Wood instead of Mirkwood, and then spiders wouldn't be a problem. Nor would light. She wished they lived near the palace, if they had to have lived in Mirkwood. Then her parents wouldn't have been killed by the spiders. Her friends wouldn't have been dragged off, either by spiders or by families who weren't going to risk their lives to remain on these shores. She wished she wasn't so young, because if she were older she was sure she wouldn't be so scared of spiders, the trees and the wolves. The guys weren't. Well, maybe Miranol was, but he was probably pretending so she would feel better about being so scared she was shaking. He was sweet. 

But most of all, she wished she hadn't tried to fix her hood and fallen, wished she hadn't gotten lost. Despite the blurs she could see circling closer, their howls reaching to a moon she couldn't see, she didn't wish she hadn't come. She wanted to be a part of something that would do as much good as this task would if they were successful. And Nenya accepted her desire to destroy the spiders, even if anyone else would have called her a foolish little child of an elf. 

Nenya was different. She didn't see Oleydya that way, and had already accepted her as a companion. Suddenly Oleydya smiled through her fears. That was why she was along. Another female elf to help even things out, someone who wouldn't expect there were things Nenya could not do because she was a female. Someone who could be taught not to hide in corners in the male dominated world. 

The shapes pressed closer, and the tone of their cries changed, seemed to grow more frightening for a long moment. 

Oleydya shivered and pulled her knees closer to her chest, wrapping her cloak even tighter about her, wishing she could just disappear in a flash of light and reappear wherever the group was. Or even where Argile was. 

She could make out their forms now, wolves that seemed impossibly large, though she knew they were much smaller than wargs. Just a plain old ordinary wolf pack… which was drawing ever closer to her. Suddenly she heard one at her shoulder, and did her best not to scream or move suddenly. Turning her head very slowly she saw… fangs. What seemed like an unending expanse of teeth, and a nose which wrinkled slightly as the wolf smelled her hair. She began scooting away, but heard one swallow there, the noise deafening as her heart paused in stark terror. Turning her head much more quickly than she knew made sense, she found another one was there indeed, and she swallowed a scream.

The one that had approached first laid down now, curling next to her as if he were a lap dog. The one on her other side did the same, and a third approached to lay over her feet. She was engulfed by warmth and confusion. Why weren't they attacking her? Were they saving her for later, or something? 

After a while, she shifted slightly, stretching her legs out. The one on her feet had gotten up when she stirred, and waited for her to stop moving before laying down again, laying his forepaws and head on her legs as two more wolves came up and laid down, their thick fur coats keeping her warm as they surrounded and partially covered her. 

She was amazed, confused, and exhausted. She was fighting to stay awake when she suddenly blinked to see Nenya crouched beside her, lifting her carefully… and no sign of wolves anywhere. "Nenya?"

"Rest, Leyda. You're safe with me," the elf promised, shifting her before Oleydya slipped into dreams, her last thought being to wonder if the wolves had been real or a dream. Absently she realized they had stopped singing.


	6. Strange Strangers

Hey guys, sorry it took so long to get this up. If I don't update within two weeks, bug me about it—the only reason is probably my forgetfulness. Or I'll be carrying it around, thinking I've already done it. 

A Monkey's Harp… you're certainly right about it being a different name. I'm not as original—mine is actually part of my name's meaning. 

Lady Jade Perendhil: This is actually before The Hobbit. Nenya is one of the main mysteries in this story, so small, short answers will come from time to time. Eirthriel is the princess of Mirkwood, the youngest of Tranduil's three children. 

Animir: Well, if you stick around, you'll be seeing more of the wolves. Nenya… has none of Thranduil's blood in her veins… I think that's as far as I'll go unless you decide to review & ask for more. Maybe not even then… : ) 

~~~^*^~~~

The four elves waiting around the fire had grown increasingly nervous and worried as time passed without any sign of the two she-elves. The sound of wolves singing carried eerily to their intent ears. The song was chilling, forcing even the thought of sleep from their minds. 

Suddenly, it stopped. Just stopped, the wolf voices all trailing off on a long, drawn out howl. From the direction they would guess it came—the echoes made it hard to be sure—Argile returned within a few minutes, and a few moments later, Nenya appeared out of the darkness, carrying the limp form of a young she-elf, the slight glow of their own light surrounding them as if the glimmer of a thousand miniscule stars were sewn into the air about them. 

The males jumped to their feet at the welcome sight, though their joy for the return was quickly tempered by their concern for Oleydya. Miranol spoke first "Is she—"

"Hush," Nenya ordered, her dark eyes scolding them gently. "She needs to sleep. As do you all," she added, taking in the wide eyes and agitated movements displayed by all. 

"How can we rest here?"

"There is no evil, no creatures of darkness here. You have a fire and watchful beings around you who watch for your safety. What more do you need to feel comfortable enough to sleep?" Nenya eased Oleydya's motionless form onto the ground, covering her with another cloak and a blanket. Then Nenya reached to her side and pulled a bit of her way bread out, taking her supper as the elves looked at her in shock. "Rest," she insisted, frowning at them.

Slowly, uneasily, they all returned to their previous posts, laying back one at a time, trying in vain to find any hint of the stars or moon above them through the thick, black canopy. 

Nenya never laid down. She was one of their watchers, and until they knew of the others she knew they wouldn't be comfortable if she slept. Which was fine with her. She knew the path well enough, trusted Argile perfectly, so she was able to take the rest she needed as they traveled through the day. 

She felt the forest wake, such as it did, before Argile stirred. He had had a bit of a night, after all. Oleydya had strayed rather far from the path, though it had most likely only been a few steps off in the wrong direction when she began. Nenya had been about to track her down from where she had first stumbled, when the wolves found the girl, keeping her warm until Nenya was there. 

After Argile was wide awake, she shook the elf closest to her, waiting until he blinked a few times—his eyes focusing on the darkness about them with a frown—to return to her place, carefully dousing the remaining flames of their fire. He woke the others, except Oleydya. With a slight shake of her head Nenya moved to the girl, resting her hand on her shoulder for a shake. 

Oleydya startled awake, sitting straight up in the instant consciousness returned. "Wha—" She stopped and looked around as her eyes cleared, seeing the remains of the fire, the four male elves, Nenya, Argile. She frowned and looked down at herself, then up at Nenya. "A dream?"

"What?" Nenya asked, tilting her head at Oleydya. "Take nourishment, Leyda. We have just as far to go today as yesterday."

"You won't leave us to follow Argile again, will you?"

"Had you stayed on the path, you would have reached us with or without his help."

"How am I supposed to see the path when I can't see two feet ahead of me?" Oleydya snapped impatiently, brushing some tangled hair back from her face, pulling a bit of leaf out of the knot roughly.

Nenya blinked. "You truly could not?"

"Of course not. What elf could without more light?" 

Nenya glanced at their companions, but no one said anything. "I can. I suppose it comes of living in these woods," she offered as explanation. "But no, I won't leave you to find your own way. I did not realize you were all so slow," she teased softly, only a slight sparkle of her eyes giving it away as a jest. 

Oleydya smiled faintly.

"Good. Now, eat."

With a sigh Oleydya reached for her food pouch, only to freeze. She picked up a strand of silvery hair. It was the length of her thumb, and would have been perfectly in place on the wolves she had dreamed… She looked up at Nenya, who glanced back, smiling slightly before the shining dark eyes flickered away, focused again on the task at hand.

They walked from waking until they had to take physical rest again, pausing only briefly for the next several days. Oleydya had lost track, feeling miserable enough without knowing how long they had traveled and without knowing how many more days they had left. If she didn't know, she figured, it would seem closer. 

Not everyone shared her ideas, though. Dareklien sighed when they halted yet again without any sign of their journey ending. "When are we going to get there?"

"In a few weeks," Nenya murmured softly.

"Weeks?" Legolas asked, blinking. "You said two weeks. We've almost walked that."

"I said it would be two weeks for almost anyone entering or leaving. I did not say two weeks to get there from the elven king's home, nor by foot." 

He looked at her, a frown drawing his brows together. "So where, exactly, are we going?"

She looked south, the general direction they had been heading since they started, once they were in the heart of the wood. "We have nearly reached the mountains. Beyond them is the old forest road. Past that is an old spider den. It is there we now go."

"We're going to spiders?" Oleydya asked, her voice rising into a very unbecoming squeak.

"No. An old spider den. No evil lives there any longer." She smiled slightly as she continued. "If you would trust me when I say no evil will befall you, things will be much simpler for all."

As she continued, the group of elves—still paused to digest her words and try to convince themselves to continue—looked at Legolas. "You have to talk to her, Leaf," Ertelen murmured, shaking his head.

"Me?" Legolas asked, his voice rising nearly as Oleydya's had. He caught himself and lowered his voice. "Why me?"

"Because you're the prince."

Legolas snorted at Dareklien's response. "As if she cares," he muttered. That shut them up for a while as they began walking once more, because her choosing Legolas still surprised and astounded most of them. 

Miranol shook his head. "She has a responsibility to your father, doesn't she?"

"If you think I know what it is, you are sorely mistaken."

"But she promised to look after you."

"She promised to look after all of us, Ertelen."

They sent him annoyed looks. "Leaf—"

He sighed and brought a hand to his temple, rubbing lightly. "Oh, very well," he finally grumbled. He glared at them all. "Stay out of earshot, or I swear you'll be dodging arrows before this is done."

They sent him cheeky grins that reminded him he wasn't totally against being their chosen spokesmen, clapped him on the back and sent him after her, surreptitiously fading into the background, staying just close enough they could be seen by Argile where he flew in wide circles above them as he always did. 

Legolas jogged up to their leader, falling into step beside her for a moment before launching into speech. "What if there's been a spider attack while we're traveling so far?"

"There hasn't."

He blinked several times, trying to take in the words, the assuredness with which they were spoken, and the calm way she spoke them. "How do you know?" he asked curiously.

She didn't look away from the path, and for a long while said nothing. When he was almost sure she wouldn't say anything she sighed. "It is complicated, and a story you don't really need to know now. Suffice it to say I know when the spiders are on the move. I don't yet know why they began the attacks, but I know since it became known I was coming, they have ceased their movements. Temporarily, at least."

"But you're leading us away from them. Won't they just continue once we're too far away to find?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so." If she did, she wouldn't be leading them away from the known spider dwellings. 

He sighed softly and ran a hand through his hair. "But how can you be so certain?"

"Very few things in life are certain beyond any doubt, Legolas. But should I be wrong, I can return to your father's realm much more quickly than we have left it. In time, you all shall be able to quicken your pace."

"But we were sent to help you." She lifted a brow and glanced up at him. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "How can we help if you won't tell us what to do, or even where we're going unless we practically beg you for information?"

"I did not wish for any help."

Legolas frowned and came to a stop. She ignored that, still walking. "Then why did you accept it?"

She didn't insult him by saying because his father commanded it. She cared not at all for his father's words as law, and they both knew it. "Because numbers can come in handy," she answered absently, not commenting when he caught up to her again. "As for why I keep you ill-informed… Did your father never do so?"

"All the time. And it was almost as annoying."

"Only almost?" she murmured, and he caught a flicker of amusement in the tone.

"His secrecy didn't endanger my life, nor the lives of my friends."

"Would you have known if it had?" she countered, tilting her head towards a soft sound. 

Legolas studied the land in the direction the noise had come from, and thought, just for an instant, that he saw something. But it was gone, and he uneasily dismissed it. "I suppose not. But here and now I know there is more you could be telling me than you are."

"Of course," she agreed blithely. 

His shoulders drooped and he let out an exasperated breath, not caring that it hissed around his teeth in a very unprincely manner that would have had his nana wringing her hands. "Why do you refuse to tell us anything?" he asked, his voice rising.

"I will tell you this. As long as you are with me you are safe. If you step outside my protection, you will be in grave danger, should you travel to an evil place in the forest."

"You say that, and you ask us to trust you, but you give us no reason to do so. Mirkwood is known for being suspicious of strangers," he muttered crossly, "and you are the strangest I have met."

To his surprise and utter confusion, she laughed. Softly, and without breaking her stride, but it was a laugh. "Your father trusts me," she murmured after a time. "Isn't that enough?" she asked, slanting a look up at him from dark eyes which twinkled with the light of the stars none of them had seen since entering the woods.

"If it weren't none of us would have left," he grumbled.

She smiled faintly, but let silence slip between them for the longest time. "Tell me, Legolas," she murmured at last, "do you ever feel you are being watched?"

"Annoyingly often. After all, I am a prince. It seems someone is always…" at the irritated  look she sent him from the corner of her eye, he couldn't help but grin. "Oh, you mean out here!" he faked surprise. Slowly he turned solemn as he studied the land around them again. He always felt he was being watched, that there were eyes just out of elven eye-sight that were watching, waiting. It was an uneasy feeling, which was why it was so hard for him to convince himself the times when he had almost seen something in the shadows was really nothing but his imagination trying to take a hold of him. After all, how often could he—or anyone else, especially an elf—shrug it off as a trick of light and shadows? "Yes."

She nodded. "You should."

He frowned and looked down at her, absently wondering why she sounded satisfied by his answer. "What is that to mean?"

"You are being watched. I don't mean just by the friends who put you up to attempting to extract information from me."

"Then by who? Or what?" he added, conjuring up a picture of an eight-legged creature with big, bulbous black eyes that seemed to glow pale yellow at night. He shivered slightly, tightening his grip on his weapon.

"There are friendly watchers, Legolas. They watch over your safety and for any evil that might approach. They do not wish to be seen by you at this time, however, so they allow Argile to keep the closest, and therefore less far-seeing, watch."

"Then I suppose you knew all along where Oleydya was the night she lost her way?"

"I didn't. They did. They merely waited for me to ask to direct me to her." She looked up at him then, her dark gaze so solemn and penetrating that he found he believed her, no matter how mysterious she seemed to enjoy being. "You have nothing to fear as long as they are near, and they will be near as long as you are in my protection." 

"_Your_ protection, not theirs?"

"It is one and the same. They protect me, I protect them. We help each other, and live peacefully and safely away from the evil this forest is known for." She smiled softly. "They have agreed to accept you all into their circle. You would feel honored, if you knew the truth, but at the very least you should feel safe. Or have your feelings of being watched not included the fact that that which is always near is not malicious?" 

She kicked up her pace a bit, and it was only then he realized she had slowed for him, matching her stride to his more relaxed one. He took the hint and dropped back to where his friends, and Oleydya, were waiting for a report. 

He looked around them, caught a flicker of something just beyond his gaze before it was gone, and knew that she was at least right that they were being watched. Despite questions from all corners, he focused his attention internally, letting the nagging little nudge at the back of his mind take over for a moment, let it look for what was wrong. It searched out the things watching them, and returned appeased, assuring him it felt no evil coming from them. 

Nor from her. Nenya may be different, may have the same darkness to her eyes that Teraien did and thus that Legolas had always equated with not purely good, but she was not evil, and he did not think that she intended them harm. Though if she had wanted to put the king into a bit of a sticky spot, this was the way to do it. Take his son and a group of young elves off into the woods, where they would have a long and hard time to return…

But the thought hadn't crossed her mind. She was here to repay whatever debt Thranduil having the medallion stood for, and she would do it, no matter what she had to do. 

Fingers snapped in front of his face, bringing him out of his contemplation. He blinked and looked at them. "We have a long ways to go," he murmured, fastening his bow to his back so he no longer had to carry it. 

The two armed elves looked at each other, and slowly, hesitantly secured their weapons as well. Then they all turned and sped up to catch up with their leader, whose long stride had already drawn her away from them in the darkness of day in the woods. Argile circled above them, crying occasionally in a voice that suddenly seemed much more informative to Legolas than it had a few minutes before. 


	7. What worries me

Megan: Nenya isn't exactly named after Galadriel's ring. I picked the name because it suonded elven, wrote most of the story (very roughly--Nea's helping me turn this into a suitable work), thought up the general plot... and then found out Nenya was also Galadriel's ring. I tried to come up with something else... but nothing seemed to fit her. So, she shares her name with a ring of adament. Not the worst inanimate object to share a name with.

Thanks to everyone else who read, and waited for this chapter. You know, if you guys bug me when I'm away, I'll remember to upload. Nea gives me the chapters back, I just forget to post them.

**_

  
  


  
  
Chapter 7

_**

Weary, hungry, thirsty, irritated, nearly to the bottom of their reserve of hope, they all stared blankly at her for a long moment after she spoke. "What?" Dareklien asked after a long pause.

Nenya laughed softly. "I said, 'we're here'."

They looked around, and saw nothing even remotely different about this bit of the wood than they had any other section they had walked through… except for the time they had approached the mountains. Then alone they had been able to see well and truly, since the trees didn't grow so thickly at the base of the mountains… of course, she had led them right by so quickly their eyes hadn't even adjusted to the slightly increased light. Every last one had wished they had been there during the day, instead of on a cloudy night. "Huh?"

She smiled again and looked up for an instant before she gripped the tree beside her and began climbing up. They noticed for the first time she wasn't wearing anything on her feet as those feet disappeared into the branches. "Coming?" she asked from somewhere over their heads.

They looked at each other in confusion, but slowly Miranol reached up and found a handhold, climbing up easily enough once he got going. One by one they followed, and each was struck blind when they reached the top. After so many weeks of walking day and part of the night in the deepest darkness, the midday sun hurt their eyes, forcing them to shield their faces from the rays for several minutes.

When they were finally able to see, they all realized for the first time they were in a flet, a fairly large one with room enough for all of them to sleep in without being crowded. Nenya reappeared from one of the branches, pushing aside the leaves that served as the wall as she entered. She was holding food, and distributed it without a word, disappearing from another side of the flet only to reappear with water.

"Once you are restored to good health and humor, I shall show you around your home away from home," she murmured, before ducking out in yet another direction. They studied the flet when she had gone, noticed that the entire thing was currently open to the sun, stars, and rain. Off against one edge there was a large roll of dried leaves that looked as if it would make a fairly good roof when unrolled. The walls, such as they were, were made of living leaves and branches, the boughs bent to form the room when they were much younger and more pliable than they now were. Some small plants that normally were only found on the very edge of the forest grew in places along the walls, some even bloomed in their aerial beds, soil, water and sun apparently provided for them.

Nenya came in from yet another place that looked like it was merely part of the wall, and tilted a gaze at them which clearly meant to ask if they were ready. They all got to their feet, and with a smile she motioned them over to where she had come from, and then slipped through the leaves again.

Miranol, the first one after her, stopped and stepped backwards when he saw what he was about to step on. "You must be joking!" he breathed.

"What?" Legolas asked, a bit irritated he had had to back up so suddenly to avoid being hit from ahead that he had been jabbed from behind by the hilt of Ertelen's sword. He looked past Miranol, and saw that the path Nenya was waiting for them to use was a branch about six inches wide. "What's the problem?" Legolas asked, still irritated. He shouldered his way past Miranol, who still said nothing, and stepped out onto the branch. It shifted slightly with a slight breeze and with his weight. That, combined with knowing how far down it was even if he couldn't see it, answered Legolas's questions and instantly killed his irritation. He closed his eyes for a single moment and reminded himself it wasn't right for any elf with any amount of wood-elf in his veins to be scared either of heights or of walking in trees. Then he opened his eyes and cautiously followed Nenya to a smaller flet in the heart of a nearby tree.

She looked at him quizzically, having seen and heard what happened. "I thought you were all at least partially wood-elves."

"We are," he agreed casually, trying to brush it off. When she frowned and pursed her lips, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We just don't usually run around in the tip tops of trees."

"You have a problem with heights?" she asked, incredulous.

"Not a problem," Legolas hedged. "We're just unaccustomed to them."

She blinked and then quickly shook her head, moving aside as Miranol made it to the flet. She waited until they were all there. "This is the kitchen, as you would see if you had any idea what the inside of one looked like."

The males all sent her droll looks, while Oleydya stifled giggles. Nenya lifted a few leaves directly across from the now hidden path they had taken to arrive. "This path divides into three others. The one to the left leads to a flet with all the stored plant foods I have here. The one to the right, all the dried meats. The middle has any cooking utensils or storage containers you might wish to use but cannot find here." She went to the left of the entrance and once again slipped out of sight. They followed until they reached a fork in the branch. Nenya's voice came from above them. "The path to the left takes you to the room the guys shall be using as sleeping quarters. The one to the right leads to this flet. Here is the bathing room."

"Bathing room?" Ertelen asked in astonishment. "In a tree?"

Nenya blinked. "Where else would it be?"

The five 'wood-elves' looked at each other in confusion and followed the branch up to the flet, finding it was little more than a sheltered space where one or two could fit. Nenya sat above them, and none could guess how she had gotten up there. Seeing their utter confusion as the looked at the bathing room, she explained. "The water is stored in large containers made with leaves and pitch, and placed into the tree tops. Those funnel down into three holding areas. One is outside the kitchen, one above you now, and one on the other side of the large flet, which is mostly for drinking water and laundry."

She showed them back to the flet the guys would used, showed them another, slightly smaller one that Oleydya would use, and then showed them another surprise—her garden. Stretched from below the laundry flet to below the kitchen, it was a long flet that held a medley of plants. The water not consumed by the flets' occupants filtered down through carefully designed wood and pitch piping which then watered all of the plants. Anything left over from that fell to the earth. This was the only flet with no rolled up roof off to one side.

"That's the grand tour," Nenya murmured. "You have no need to go elsewhere up here."

"Then there is elsewhere?"

"Yes," she agreed softly. "But it is mine."

"So you have a secret after all," Legolas murmured, partially teasing, since it seemed she had nothing that wasn't a secret to the rest of them.

"Everyone has a secret of some sort, Legolas, unless they are truly innocent children." She looked up at one tree they had not been led to. "There are two flets that are mine, and mine alone. My mother and I made them, and we shall keep them."

"Your mother?" Ertelen asked, looking around for another elf. "Where is she? Where is everyone, for that matter?"

"There is no one else. She has gone to the havens," she murmured, before frowning slightly. She shook her head and her attention returned to the elves around her. "Those two flets are ours alone. Even should someone else come here, live here for thousands of years, they will remain ours." After a moment she looked at them and shook her head. "And now there are a few things to show you that are on the ground, for various reasons."

On the ground she showed them first a small pile of rocks with a crude billows set up. Miranol frowned at it, and looked to her. "Can I make some improvements?"

"Feel free to do so," she agreed, before leading the others on as he began moving things around. There was a practice area set up, a few bits of leaves designed into various types of targets that the three weapon carrying elves could fashion into a workable space for their pursuits. Miranol joined them as Legolas and Ertelen wielded their twin daggers at each other in fun.

"There is one other thing," she murmured, pausing from where she had been about to return to the trees. "You will not kill any creature that is not either a black spider or an orc. If you do so, you forfeit your guardians."

Dareklien frowned blackly. "Then how are we to hunt for food?"

"I shall accompany you on such hunts. What I say you can kill, you can. If I do not say it is well to do so, you may find yourself in grave peril from which I cannot release you."

"Your friends wouldn't help us?"

"It would be they who would kill you, Legolas." Her eyes seemed as dark as the forest for a long moment, without a spark of the stars within them, before she called Oleydya to her and climbed into the tree as effortlessly as she did anything physical.

"She creeps me out when she does that," Miranol muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

"I think she's telling stories to scare us into obeying her every whim," Dareklien scowled.

Legolas slowly shook his head. "She does mean to warn us, perhaps even to scare us. But she means what she says."

"That's what worries me," Ertelen said, looking up at the trees their black-eyed leader had disappeared into.


	8. The Spider Witch

I'm going to see if I can do it this way and avoid the whole spacing problem with their quick edit option. Probably not, but I'll try.

Um… yeah, not much interest in the last chapter, and it's easy to see why. This one has a bit more meat to it, but may have more errors. Nea's computer's acting up, so she could only take a glancing look at it once I 'finished' it.

A hint at what Nenya is hiding comes along here.

**_Chapter 8_**

It did not take more than a week or two for the elves that had traveled away from their home to feel comfortable in the series of flets. Soon they were running through the trees with more freedom than they usually had. In fact, there was little in the way of restrictions here, except for the whole not hunting without Nenya thing. That wasn't really a problem. She went about once a week normally, so she just changed her normal routine to include Dareklien and Legolas.

Still, practicing, walking through the trees, getting to know some of the darkness during the light of day, eating, drinking and telling stories of the forest to Nenya at night only contented them for so long.

Legolas was sent to find her again after they began to think this was all they were going to do. "But—"

"No, Leaf. She talked to you last time."

He sighed and looked above them. He could see a falcon, but after a moment identified it as Zetea, Argile's mate. She helped him out without knowing it, crying out what he had come to consider a 'where are you?'. Argile soon answered her, his voice coming from one of the flets Nenya hadn't shown them to.

He hesitated only a moment, because there were about four such flets and only two had been claimed as her exclusive property. Well, four he knew of. They were hidden so well in the trees that there could be many more.

He pushed the leaves aside and stepped in, calling her name softly.

Nenya sighed and looked up at him. She was laying on her stomach on the floor of the flet, a book in front of her. "What do you need, Legolas?"

"Information," he answered, looking quizzically around. A true wall existed on two sides of this flet, like on the three storage flets above the kitchen. Also like those, it had a permanent roof. Against one of those walls was a bookshelf, filled with books. He realized then that he had kind of thought she couldn't read, which really made no sense when he considered she wrote his father a letter once a year.

When he thought about that he realized he had a lot of things to ask her. But first things first. "When are we going to do something productive?"

"Productive? What do you want to do?"

"Hunt spiders."

She shook her head. "They are calm now. There have been no attacks or even sightings since I arrived at the palace."

He didn't bother to ask how she knew. She wouldn't tell him. "Then why are we here? Taking a few months away from our families for the sheer joy of living in the trees?"

"All wood-elves enjoy such a life once they adjust to it."

"I am not completely a wood-elf, and even wood-elves have duties and responsibilities to their families."

"You wish to go back, then?"

He hesitated. He wanted to see his father and his little sister again, but he did enjoy it out here. If it weren't for the threat of spiders, he would have been happy here. But the threat was there, and it made him unwilling to relax for very long. "I wish to be productive," he finally answered. "The threat remains."

"The threat, as you put it, has been there for thousands of years. A few attacks more or less hasn't changed the fact that there are spiders in these woods."

"But now the threat is greater."

"The threat is the same," she countered, shifting to her feet, returning the book to an empty spot on a shelf. "You perceive it differently."

He sighed, closing his eyes for an instant in pure exasperation. "Why do you insist on battling with words?"

"Do you dislike it? Your speech is very incorrect, Legolas. You must be precise as a leader."

"You should also be willing to impart pertinent information to your subordinates."

"Key word being pertinent. You know all you must."

"All I must, perhaps, but not all I would wish."

"And why would you wish to know more than you must? Such is the thought of a fool."

"One who is not content with his lot as a fool and wishes to gain knowledge in the hopes that his increase of knowledge will one day lead him to wisdom!" Legolas closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath that calmed him a lot less than he had been hoping it would.

When he reopened his eyes, it was to see an approving smile flicker over her lips. "Very good," she praised softly, starlight dancing in her eyes. "Let me impart a bit of _knowledge_ now, and then I will leave you to consider it. Or rather, you will leave." She lifted a brow, informing him of the order even as she drew closer, already moving him towards the door. "You should beware the advice of the wise and the rich. They do not seek company."

He dug his heels in. "Do you like being out here alone?"

"If I didn't, I would—"

"No, you wouldn't." He cut her off before she could say she would move, and frowned at her. "You like being out here, that's not what I asked. I asked if you like being out here alone."

Her eyes fell from his, and she stepped away from him, moving absently to the book shelf. She traced a finger along one of the old spines. "I haven't any choice," she murmured softly after a while.

"Why not? You don't think you could build a serious of flets as impressive as this near other elves?"

"No. I don't think any elves would want to be near me." Her eyes moved to his, and he was pinned in place for a long moment.

"Why?" he asked softly after that moment.

She smiled faintly, a small, bitter smile. "You tell me. Everyone here has already made up their lives, excluding me from all but the stories at night, which they began to halt their fears, and only continue because now that they know so many are false, they wish to learn the truth. I am their teacher."

"You drew yourself away from us. From the very beginning you have held yourself apart, as if you fancy yourself above us, beyond us."

All traces of life left her eyes for a moment, the slight glitter of light within them fading, leaving them a cold, empty black. She sighed softly and shook her head. "It cannot be helped."

"Why not?" he asked, coming closer.

She glanced up, not really seeing him. "Elves will always wish me set apart, when they know the truth."

"What truth?" he murmured, becoming exasperated, and concerned. Their ever-vigilant leader seemed to be slipping out of reach into some self-created cage. He was reaching out, trying to keep her with them, but she was as elusive as ever, giving him a faint smile before she turned away, answering a call from Ertelen that they join the others for dinner and stories.

He shook his head slightly when he received several questioning looks from the others. They sighed or smiled, depending on their annoyance verses enjoyment ratios. When they had finished eating, they all settled down in the big flet, and turned to Oleydya, for it was her turn to come up with a story, tale or idea that wood-elves carried with them of the forest.

"Um," she murmured with a frown. Her eyes lit up suddenly. "How about wood-men having wolves as pets?"

Legolas and Ertelen shook their heads. "They have dogs, Leyda," Ertelen murmured.

"Though they may have some wolf in them, they are not wolves," Legolas added. As both knew members of the guard who were often in contact with the wood-men, they heard the truer stories.

She shrugged and looked at Miranol, who tilted his head forward, causing his hair to cover his ears, which were flushed with his embarrassment. "Well, I remember my gram telling me about the spider witch."

The three guys shook their heads at him, but Oleydya leaned forward. "Spider witch?" she asked, clearly having not heard this one.

Any tale untold, true or believed false, could be repeated without shame, so Miranol nodded his head and relaxed a bit to tell the story. "It's said that a she-elf went into the forest and was attacked by spiders. She beat them back, and wounded a very young spider without killing it, but killed the others. She left it. Later, I don't know how long, she came across the spider again. The spider started to attack, but then didn't, going along her way as if she hadn't seen the she-elf. This continued for a while, but one day the spider and the elf met when there were other spiders around. The other spiders attacked, and the elf fought back. The spider was attacked for not assisting even as the fight wore on, and was slowly bleeding to death as the elf finished the last of them off. The elf drank some of the spider's blood, and gave the spider some of her own, forging a link which saved the spider's life. Ever after, they were sisters in blood, and were as aunts to the other's children. But the elf was changed, became more and more like a spider. They say she hides herself in the forest so the elves won't see her and kill her, mistaking her for a spider."

Dareklien shook his head. "How you can believe that enough to repeat it?"

"My gram—"

"It's true."

Two words, but the entire group, who had been getting up into arms to defend or refute the story, the entire group went still, and looked over at Nenya. She was sitting on one of the branches that made up the semi-wall, her bare feet tucked beneath her, her dark hair being shifted by a faint breeze, her face seeming as white as her hair was dark as she looked up at the stars. She turned to them, some of her hair crossing her face, the darkness there rivaling with the darkness of her eyes.

"What?" Legolas managed after a moment.

"It's true. Except that she believed she would be mistaken for a spider. No elf could ever be mistaken for a spider."

"Is she around here?"

"She left the forest long ago."

"Did you know her?"

"Yes," Nenya murmured, before shifting her weight slightly, going from sitting to walking in a single, agile move, out of sight before they could think to move.


	9. Starless eyes

A Monkey's Harp, Gemini969, MoonLit-Night, and juvenile delinquent: Thanks for reviewing! (And I know this is a short chapter, but there will be more soon!)

**_  
  
Chapter 9_**

_He's escaped the carefully laid trap, damn him!_

_But he won't always manage to do so, _the black-eyed elf argued softly within.

_Off with the specialist he goes… I'm the only one who knows the spiders, they obey me. No one else. _

_You don't know why. _

_That doesn't matter. _The black eyes flashed. _The dear young prince will have to go back sometime. It would be a simple matter to poison him then, in the palace with everyone around. They would say no one did anything, because they would see nothing. He will slip into eternal sleep, continue to death, and they'll just watch and morn his passing, silly little elves. _

_Yes. That will do for now. When he comes back, I'll poison him. He will know the icy tendrils of death he has managed to somehow escape this long. _

_The spiders will get him, one way or another, and I'll no longer have any annoying prince within the woods._

A sinister smile twisted the thin lips, and hatred burned as an icy flame in the starless eyes.


	10. With the Wolves

A Monkey's Harp: Who says it was a guy?...

Juvenile Delinquent: That came from the recesses of a demented mind... and not entirely only my own.

Yup, here's the other chapter I said was almost ready. And Nea's computer is shot, and she's got so much stuff to do on her own just with school and jobs even without trying to get her own stories updated that I don't feel right bugging her about checking my work right now. Her's is great, as ever--only two more chapters for Not A Word--I can't wait! (and luckily, I don't have to--I get to bug her while she's writing. LOL.)

**_  
  
Chapter 10_**

Nenya smiled as she heard them begin complaining as they continued on their way to the palace. Were they never happy? The thought amused her—she sounded like an old nana would after years of putting up with complaining children.

"Why are we going back? We haven't learned anything really helpful."

Legolas agreed silently, his eyes narrowing on the elf leading them back. The others hung back without a word, letting him catch up with her quickly. "Well?" he asked when he was beside her.

She shrugged. "You wanted to go back, so, back we go."

"What help has this been to anyone?"

"You will know that soon enough. It is only a visit. There is much for us to do yet, but I think I've thought of something you would like to ask Thranduil to provide us with."

"What?"

She glanced over her shoulder at the elves, then glanced up at him with a smile. "Horses."

"Would it make that large a difference?"

She shook her head, vaguely affronted he hadn't understood her jest. "It would be a hindrance, more than anything." She glanced up at Argile. "And we are moving much more quickly now than we did before, not merely because they have motivation for doing so."

Legolas nodded slightly. "I wondered." He glanced around, but could still not quite tell where they were. "We made it to the old path much more quickly than I had expected."

"And we passed the mountains yesterday."

"We did?" He frowned, looking behind them. "Why didn't we notice them?"

"Because I didn't lead you by them. We are north of them, yes, but there was no reason for you to have them as a landmark this time."

He was still certain they should be almost to reach the mountains… in a few days, so he didn't hesitate to swing himself up into one of the trees around them, rapidly bursting through the canopy. He blinked a few times and was able to see, but the mountains were not ahead of them. Turning his head he could see them a ways behind.

Argile called below him, and was answered by a falcon that flew in large circles over the trees. Zetea. With a shake of his head, Legolas ran through the tree tops for a moment, catching up with Zetea until she began flying in slow circles once more. He made his way to the forest floor quickly, thankful his eyes had grown accustomed to the rapid switches from bright sun-light to forest darkness while they were in the flets of Nenya's home.

Nenya was ever ahead of the others, her long strides eating up the land while the others were content to keep up an easy, more relaxed pace. Legolas caught her up and sent her a questioning look.

She smiled faintly, her eyes steady on the ground beyond them. "You all have gained a good amount of energy and stamina. We are but a week away from being in Thranduil's halls."

"You made it in a week."

"You _improved_, nearly cutting the travel time in half, through faster and longer days. I need no pause for food or sleep, and I never walk when I have somewhere to be."

"Unless you must."

She bowed her head slightly, accepting the truth of his statement. They continued in silence for a time, unbroken except for an occasional cry from Argile to his mate.

"Was Zetea with us on the first journey?"

"From the second day," Nenya agreed softly. "She didn't answer him, though. This time you know her, so she feels free to speak with him."

"What other creatures watch us?"

She slowly smiled, a quick glance from the corner of sparkling black eyes telling him he wouldn't know unless he found out.

"It's a difficult thing to discover," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest crossly.

She laughed softly, but Argile distracted her from anything she may have said. He had called to Zetea, but had not gotten a response. When a second call produced nothing, Argile flew into the canopy out of sight, and Nenya came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes again took on the flickering look she got when hunting, the same she had worn when she came to the palace. Argile and Zetea both returned suddenly, talking to Nenya so quickly the few things the others had learned were negated.

Nenya's head twisted to the west, her eyes narrowing as her lips compressed in apparent anger. She spoke to them quickly, and then turned to the elves who had come to circle near the place she had stopped. "We must make haste. Do not fear unless you see an orc or a black spider, and do not harm any creature other than those two." She waited until Argile and Zetea came back, Argile flying straight ahead of them as Zetea rose through the branches to escape the darkness once more. Nenya took off after Argile, turning to run backwards from time to time, keeping an eye on the elves behind her.

They felt the urgency of the moment, even though they didn't understand it, and ran with her as quickly as they could. Legolas tried to catch the things the falcons were saying, but it was of no use. The watchful edge he had always felt around them since they first left the palace suddenly caught his attention… because it was shrinking.

He started to reach for his bow, but paused and left it where it was. Nenya glanced back, having sensed the motion, and nodded slightly, before she ran on as before. The circle grew smaller, and he could sense blurs around them which he couldn't take his eyes from the land at his feet long enough to see for fear of tripping. The blurs grew bigger, and had feet which padded softly on the ground. Amid his own belabored breathing and that of the other elves around him, Nenya annoyingly excluded, he could hear panting.

A long howl rose up on the edge of the circle, sending the hairs on Legolas's neck standing at attention. Nenya spun around and stopped, the elves all catching up in an instant. She drew her sword, the one she had brought from some flet she hadn't allowed them in, and yelled one word at them—_"Go!"_

The wolves, which they could all now see they were, pressed on, nipping at heels when the elves ran the wrong way or went too slowly. Legolas tried to look over his shoulder to see Nenya, but the darkness of the woods and the distance they were achieving made it impossible.

Oleydya was the first to break, falling to her knees, unable to run any farther. At once the wolves stopped, many coming up beside her, nudging her gently as if to get her to her feet again. But even with the help of hands she couldn't go more than a few steps before she was unable to go any farther.

"No," a whispered breath said. Legolas looked back to see Nenya taking in the halted group at a glance, her eyes wide and worried, before determination settled within them, wiping them clean of emotions once more. She bit her lower lip and frowned, before speaking quickly in a tongue he didn't understand. She shifted something on her back, letting it fall to the ground. Two of the larger wolves came up on either side of it and helped the injured wolf stand, staying beside it as slowly the sound of something chasing them came to the ears of the elves waiting, heralded by Zetea's long, morning cry.

Nenya withdrew her sword once more, and looked at Oleydya. "Climb."

Oleydya sighed softly, still trying to get her breath, but she found a low branch and began climbing, the process excruciatingly slow until she was nearly out of sight. Nenya called to Argile, who settled himself in the tree above Oleydya, keeping careful watch as the young she-elf drew her cloak around her, effectively hiding her from any who didn't know where she was.

"Ready yourselves," Nenya hissed to the rest of them, her eyes narrowing, the glitter of stars fading as anger took hold. Anger and hate.

"What comes?" Legolas asked softly, notching an arrow as he came up beside her, Ertelen and Miranol standing behind Dareklien, Ertelen calmly prepared while Miranol gripped his sword somewhat nervously. A smith first, and a warrior second… and only in his spare time, but he knew, basically, what to do.

"Men." The word was a curse, and soon enough the sounds of clanking could be identified as the fastenings men use to control their horses and dogs, both of which the elves had heard for a while. Anger burned cold and black in Nenya's eyes, emptying them entirely of stars as her lips pulled back from her teeth in an animal snarl. "They come in a hunting party."

After the wolves. Legolas's eyes narrowed as he recalled the injured wolf who's blood now decorated Nenya's shoulder and back in a glistening display of the crudeness the beings coming towards them embodied. His jaw tightened as he drew himself upright, putting his weapon away, his eyes flashing as the men came charging through the woods.

"Halt!" he called, knowing they undoubtedly didn't know the tongue of the elves, and not really caring.

"Get off the path, stranger," one of the men called.

Legolas threw back his hood as he moved forward slightly, revealing his ears. The others followed his example. "You are the stranger here," Legolas informed them, changing his speech to a tongue they understood. "What right have you to hunt the creatures in the elven king's domain, you who are not elves?"

"We can hunt wolves if we please."

"And if I were to tell you these creatures are under his protection from hunting, would that mean nothing?"

One of the men lowered his chin, glaring at the elf before them. He glanced at the others. "Four warrior elves and a she-elf think they can uphold any decree of the king's here, assuming there is such an elf?" he sneered. "Looks to me like you should be more concerned about the safety of your weakest member," he growled low in his throat, his eyes raking over Nenya, once he determined that she was, in fact, female. His lip curled slightly, taking in her masculine clothing.

She was about to respond when Legolas stepped forward once more. He threw his cloak back over his shoulders, lifting his head in defiance. "Everyone before you has great skill with their weapons of choice. Think wisely before you decide to deny or decry the power of the king when before any elves, but especially in the presence of those who are from his bloodline."

It was only then that they noticed Legolas wore the symbol of the elven king. They may not have believed he still lived, thinking surely immortal elves were a story simply told to children, but here was living, arguing proof that the king still lived, and more, had a son.

"How old are you, kid? Eighteen?" one of the older men asked.

Legolas lifted a brow at them. "Age is of little importance to the firstborn. I have seen more winters than all of you put together. To truly know it in years, which is only a measure used by mortals, or counted by elves for those beings, I would have to consult the chronicles. I am neither very young, nor yet old." He drew his bow in a move so fast the men missed it. "The time to speak has passed. You can either return to your homes at the edge of this wood, where the King does not mind you being, or you can attempt to press deeper into the darkness, past us. Make your choice."

The men looked at each other for a moment, a few of the younger ones, who were about as old as the elves appeared to their eyes, reached for their weapons, but the older ones had heard from traders who dealt with the elves. It was said they were forever young, and any who could be called even slightly skilled in any craft were almost certainly beyond the masters among humans. They were supposedly in tune with the world around them, and could see farther, hear better, and move more quickly than humans. So it was said, and some were unwilling to believe things that were passed down around campfires, while others had already seen some proof of at least one point.

One of the younger members, sensing the indecision around him, took it upon himself to race forward, intent on stealing the she-elf from them before hoping his comrades would help dispose of the others. His horse ran forward at his sharp prompting, and Nenya lowered her head slightly, focusing her pitch-black eyes on the horse. The horse's eyes rolled slightly as it reared, pawing the air before it as its impulsive rider fell to the ground. With a shrieking noise the frightened horse turned and bolted, the sound causing many of the other horses to rear, and all trembled even if they kept their hooves on the ground out of loyalty to the men who held their reigns tightly. Nenya grabbed a low branch and swung into the trees, walking along a branch that hung relatively low. As she approached the horses they began backing up, despite the force their riders tried to use to get them to move forward. When she held her hands out towards the horses and made an angry hissing noise the horses all bolted, some with and many without their riders.

The men on the ground shook the sense back into their heads and looked up as the she-elf, the 'weakest member', dropped silently to the ground, her nearly black cloak flapping about her, a long, dark look making their hunting dogs whine and back away, though they clung to their masters with soft whimpers.

"Leave the wolves alone," she hissed, her lips drawn back over teeth that glistened in the light of their torches.

The men scrambled to their feet and grabbed at their things, running after their horses with a few backward looks that were meant to assure the elves they left only to find their horses, not because of the fear now running wild in their veins.

When they were gone, Nenya sighed and seemed to shrink slightly, turning to the elves around her. "Leyda, you may come down," she murmured softly. "Argile!"

The falcon flew off, calling incessantly. The sounds faded, and the elves looked at each other in confusion. Nenya sat down with her back to a tree, closing her eyes for a long moment. Slowly she smiled and looked up at Legolas. "You learn quickly, prince."

"I think I have learned very little," he countered, kneeling beside her.

"Yes?" she asked softly, closing her eyes once again. "What have you learned since leaving your father's halls?"

He thought about that. He had learned to walk longer and faster, to exist on less food and water and still be satiated, to trust his instincts more or less blindly, to climb trees without thought or care. He had learned what was needed to be a self-sufficient wood-elf, and he had learned that the 'spider specialist' before him was a friend of both falcons and wolves, but didn't believe herself to be a friend elves would want. "Many things," he answered after a moment.

She smiled faintly and turned her head to the path they had been traveling an instant before the others could hear the approaching creatures. The falcons continued their endless circles, but the wolves came in close, edging slightly around the male elves, but pressing against the she-elves. Nenya smiled and calmly pulled the largest one to her, burying her face in the wolf's neck. A few younger wolves curled up around her feet, others milled around, but they all shied from being approached. Unless it was Nenya or Oleydya who did the approaching.

Legolas watched them, and was surprised to see they all were in shades of light instead of black. Silvery white seemed to be the predominate color, and was the color the large wolf Nenya was hugging wore.

"What of the injured one?" he asked after a moment.

She glanced up and sighed softly. "They will have taken her home, where she will be brought food until the wound has determined itself."

"Will you do nothing?"

"What can I do for them in the palace, Legolas? Whatever help I could provide would only work in the forest."

He looked back at the path they had taken. "You can make it there and back in a week," he murmured softly.

"You have not enough food."

He shrugged. "Get one of your friends to bring us more."

"It is not your decision to make," she informed him primly, getting to her feet. "You cannot simply say leave and expect your companions will enjoy sitting around doing nothing." She shook her head. "No, this is not an option."

"Then what do you suggest that gets you to them on time to help?"

She lowered her eyes and sighed softly. "I cannot leave you out here as you are. You cannot walk back in time, and are incapable of running back." She looked at the wolves and lowered herself to a crouch in front of the largest. She spoke to the wolf quickly, as Legolas realized for the first time the wolf was female, and apparently the leader of the pack. Nenya stood up again and turned to them. "We shall all return. We should arrive in time."

"How?" he asked, before he heard Oleydya shriek. He turned to see her clutching the thick coat of a wolf she was astride. "Leyda, what are you—" he was cut off by seeing a wolf walk up behind Ertelen and more or less ram his way forward so the elf was suddenly sitting on the wolf's back. Miranol and Dareklien were also sitting by the time Legolas could blink. He looked behind himself in suspicion, earning a soft chuckle from Nenya. She looked at a large, slightly darker colored wolf, who quickly walked behind Legolas.

He sighed and felt the world tilt as he was knocked off his feet despite the slight preparation of knowing it was coming. "I take it you're going to ride the leader?" he asked, tilting his head at the largest wolf.

Nenya lifted a brow at him. "Why would I want to do that?" she asked softly, taking off at a run, the wolves springing into action behind her.

The wolves they were riding took a moment to get used to having riders, and for the riders to get used to the odd form of riding, and then they were in the thick of things, Legolas's wolf running up to Nenya's right side as Oleydya's drew up on her left. Both were slightly behind still, as Nenya and the silver wolf seemed to be given the right to lead the pack. For the first time they were able to watch Nenya run without merely watching as her lithe form rapidly left them behind. Her always long strides lengthened even farther, into an easy loping gait that was reminiscent of the wolves around them.

"Run with them often?" Legolas asked, calling over the soft sound of padded feet and panting breath, along with the watery sound of wind rushing past them.

She laughed, brightly, joyfully. Her eyes sparkled with life when she glanced over at him for an instant, before her steps diverted from the path since it was blocked by an old tree which had fallen many years before. The wolves split to go around the obstacle, reforming quickly, each one straining eagerly forward, obviously enjoying the run.

Soon the trees thinned slightly, and the ground became rockier. Nenya was given the undeniable position of leadership as the silver wolf dropped back to running on her heels. Nenya led them between the valley of the mountains, using her hands from time to time as the climb grew steep or dropped off too suddenly. In single file the wolves ran behind her, trusting that where she ran they could as well, though some places were a bit harder for them, and others were harder for her.

A long howl came up from the back of the group, and was echoed up, one by one, as they ran on. It startled him when the wolf beneath him picked up the melody the wolves had started, the tone shivering and trembling within the body between his knees, and he nearly fell off as the wolf's gait changed, the wolf leaping forward as if the note brought him off the ground.

A slightly higher tone burst forth from the wolf just ahead of his, the one that as she cried out to the moon hidden by the trees drew up beside Nenya. A new note rang in the air, drawing his attention from the trees. It was a little smoother, a bit less… wolfish. It warbled and hung on the air just the same.

Looking up he saw Nenya's head lower slightly as the note trailed off, watched as she regained her normal stride as they continued. The wolf song rose up around them, unbroken for a long while. As it continued, Legolas watched Nenya, watched the wolves he could see, saw their moods seemed to fluctuate with the notes. For the first time he saw it as an expression of the group's emotions. At moments higher with the sheer joy of the run, of being together, at times lamenting the uncertain fate of one of their members at the hands of men. Now and again Nenya's voice rose with theirs, and as he concentrated he could pick up sorrow, loss, anger, and even a hint of fear.

What she had to fear he couldn't guess, nor even begin to imagine.


	11. Kudos

Oh, wow. I'm tired. And since no one asked anything last chapter, I'm just slapping this up and calling it a day.

Nea still isn't availible to beta for me, so I was on my own for the final draft (she helps alot with ideas and plot twists, and when I get stuck, but she hasn't actually read this yet). I thank her for the help she has given me, though... and _I wish her computer was working! _If it was, she'd be done with Not A Word, and Among The Brambles would have been updated! Argh!

**_  
  
Chapter 11_**

Legolas followed the slight sound of wolves to a small clearing he had been unaware of when they first left the area. He paused when he could see the rocks instead of descending to the ground at once as he had intended.

Nenya was in the midst of wolves, five of them crawling over her and grabbing onto her clothing, growling roughly as they tugged on the loose material.

"Never figured you for the brood of kids type," he teased, dropping into the clearing. Two of the pups wobbled over, latching immediately onto his boots.

She laughed softly and tossed him something. He shook the material out, and found a large, loose shirt. "Trust me," she murmured to his questioning look. She held up her arm, from which a roly-poly pup dangled by his sharp little teeth.

He shrugged into the shirt, glad for the extra layers when one of the bolder pups latched onto his arm, the fangs making it to the skin regardless. He glanced over at the full grown wolf lying slightly to the side. "How is she?"

"She'll be running again soon. Really, these little guys are the only thing stopping her. They need some more time to grow longer legs." The mother wolf lifted her head and made a soft noise, which almost sounded as a snap. "Time for us to run along," Nenya murmured, disentangling the pups from her clothing. She rubbed her hands up and down the fuzzy back of the pup that was still growling and pulling on Legolas's sleeves, distracting the small wolf long enough Legolas could pull himself free. In self defense as the pup wobbled after him, he leapt into the low branches of a tree. Nenya tugged the wayward pup's short tail, making him cry in annoyance and turn around, where he saw his siblings feeding happily. He lost interest in the two elves at once and went to join his family with a soft snort.

Nenya climbed up beside Legolas, glancing at him before walking back to the flet he had come through while looking for her. The one no one else really knew about, the one of those she had not led them to that he not only knew about but had been within on occasion. She picked up a book and slid into the swinging chair, laying her head against the back as she flipped through the old book to find her place.

After a moment of ignoring him, she smiled faintly and glanced up at him, crooking a brow in question. He smiled faintly and bowed his head ever so slightly. "If she is well, should we not continue back to the palace?"

"You wish to see your brother?"

The mere thought of his brother was enough to make Legolas's spine stiffen. "Not really," he stated, aware his voice was harsher than usual. He paused for a moment, closing his eyes as he drew a calming breath. "But I do miss Father and Eirthriel."

"You were born close to each other. I take it that closeness remained?"

Legolas started to nod when he paused. "How did you know she was born soon after I was?"

She smiled faintly. "You know your father writes to me. You think he would leave out such family news?"

"Not at all. But I do believe I am older than you."

"Indeed, you are correct. Not as much older as you probably assume. Apparently I look much younger than I am, even in the ways of elves."

"Then my father wrote your mother?"

"Of course," she agreed.

"She never came to the palace?"

"Only once that she told me of. Before you were born."

Having someone else speak so calmly of his own history, someone who was younger than he was, was a new experience for Legolas. He found he didn't particular enjoy it. "Then you began writing him?"

"I informed him of her leaving the forest, and expected the connection would be terminated. But a letter came, requesting that I keep him appraised of the forest, of my existence within it. He also said he would be of help should I ever require any."

"I believe you never requested any, since he saw you first at the same time I did."

She smiled and nodded slightly, lifting a hand to take in the trees around her. "What more could I ask?"

He thought about that for a moment. The only thing the palace really had to offer him was his father and sister. She didn't have any family that he knew about. "How about friends? Elven friends," he qualified when she began to answer.

Her eyes dimmed as they had the last time he had asked about such, and she slowly shook her head. "That is too much to ask."

She was slipping away yet again, seeking to lock herself out of reach. "Why do you hold us away?"

"For you… and for me," she admitted softly. "You will look back on this moment, one day, and you will laugh, wondering how you could have ever wished for my friendship."

He sighed as she started to bury her nose in the book again. "I think it more likely I shall wish to kick myself for not shaking some sense into you." With a shake of his head he studied the books for a moment, really looked at them as he hadn't before, seeking any reason not to leave her alone just yet. His brows drew together as he spotted one. He tugged the book out, brushed some dust from the cover and flipped it open, turning to her. "Where did you…" he trailed off, realizing the truth. "He sent it to you, didn't he?"

She glanced at him and nodded slightly. "For my two hundredth birthday."

"I have scoured the library for this. It was my favorite when I was young." Legolas found one of the pictures he remembered best and traced the dragon lightly with a fingertip. Every scale was drawn in, the illumination one of the finest he recalled. He closed the book and set it back on the shelf. "I suppose this explains the necklace he had made a few years back."

Nenya smiled slightly. "The third bit of jewelry he sent me. Apparently she-elves in the palace find use for such." She lifted a brow.

"They tend to wear them."

"Why?"

"To…" he frowned, shrugged one shoulder as he found he didn't really have an answer. "To look richer, I suppose. Or because they think the jewels are pretty."

"The pieces he sent me are exquisite, but I have no reason to wear them."

"Yet you speak of them as if you have them."

"Of course I have them," she agreed softly, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Why would I destroy or throw away something beautiful?"

"Good question," he murmured. "So answer me this. Why do you refuse my friendship?"

"Because you would not offer it if you knew everything."

"Does my father?"

Her eyes dropped, and she frowned slightly. "I believe he does, yes."

"Yet he not only befriends you but sends you things for your major birthdays. Why do you believe that which does not deter my father would deter me?"

Her eyes flashed to his before she pushed herself out of the chair and onto her feet, leaving the book there as she began to leave the flet. When he caught her arm to prevent her escape she whirled on him, her eyes darkening while still glittering, anger flaming coldly at him. "You would not have the strength to hear the whole story before you judged. You would believe the half-truths told by people who only know a small part of the tale, jumping to the conclusion they are right without pausing to hear the truth from me."

"Like when I found out the wolves were our silent guardians? I was very upset by that. So upset I refused to even consider staying in the woods a moment longer than necessary, and planned a hunting party to exterminate them all!" He snarled the words at her, his fingers digging into her arm.

Her obsidian eyes chilled farther in her anger, narrowed against him. "Kudos to you, dear prince, for choosing a pack of wolves over a pack of men who would have killed your friends—and you—if given a chance. Release me," she hissed, the tone chilling him to the bone.

His anger frozen with the rest, he realized the bruising grip he was keeping and removed his hand from her arm as if stung. She stalked away from him, disappearing through one of the branches from the flet.

Closing his eyes in exasperation, he got a handle on his once again rising anger, leaving the flet to walk in the trees for a while. There were several paths perfect for such, and he could easily imagine Nenya using them often. She seemed most comfortable in the trees.

Or with the wolves.

Her words rang in his ears, and by the time he wound his way back to the big flet for the evening meal logic had reseated itself firmly in his mind. She insisted, time and again in one way or another, that no elf would wish to be her friend if they knew the truth. Well, he knew she had lived out here throughout her life, knew she cared little for status symbols the elves he was used to dealing with enjoyed flaunting, and he knew she had a great love within her for the animals she called friends. But they were animals. He wouldn't take it to a human level and say they were just animals, but they were not elves.

Every elf should have elves as friends sometime in their life. Without friends their eyes would eventually dim for good, having no reason to continue living. How would she survive when she had to pass into the havens?

She said her mother went to the undying lands, though, so she would be all right.

Still, that would be many years ahead.

With a sigh, Legolas gave up his circular thoughts and stepped into the flet, joining his friends for the meal. Oleydya stretched her neck nearly out of place as she strained to see Nenya, expecting her to be behind him.

"Where is she? It's almost time for tales," she murmured when Nenya didn't appear.

Tales. Legolas blinked. Tales? What tale could she possibly have to tell that she viewed so repulsive that it would keep any elves from wishing her as a friend? He could think of nothing that would lower any elf to such a liminal state as she claimed for herself. Well, befriending orcs or some such would do it, but the elf in question wouldn't be an elf for long. Evil cannot reside in an elf indefinitely. It is destroyed, either by killing whatever good remains and so the elf, or by another elf killing the traitor to his kind. Elves of darkness are not tolerated. Elves and darkness are never spoken of in the same being, for once the relationship is established, deadly measures are always taken to prevent it.

Nenya never came down to hear their tales that evening, leaving Legolas without her presence to help alleviate his confusion… not that her presence usually helped.


	12. Spring festival

A little tangent here away from what you guys most likely wanted… in other words, no romance here, exactly.

Nea's back!!! Sort of. If you know her stuff, you'll definitely see her hand in this chapter. Thanks so much, Nea!

To teeheehee: Interesting name… to quote Nea… (clears throat and looks down spectacles at teeheehee) "Plot points will not be revealed"… LOL. So keep reading!

**_  
  
Chapter 12_**

It had been a bright and beautiful day in the small border village on the edge of the former Greenwood. Laughter had been cheerfully present throughout the day. No one had any true cares, not in that day. Spring was practically there already, the small flowers blooming in the grasses on the eastern side of the village.

As the shadows began to lengthen, a great fire was created in the middle of the village to celebrate the coming season, and to help it seem to come more quickly. It was the annual farewell to winter, and a precursor to the true spring celebration that was held near the palace, and sometimes within it, depending on the year and the King's mood. Elven lights filled the air, scorching the night sky as the feast gaily continued. Friends and family, they were all around, all smiling, laughing, offering jesting advice for the next steps in her young life.

Shrieks filled the air from here and there, making her blush when the older she-elves laughed about who had been taken to the forest that night. No young elves had approached her, but she was sitting with her mother for a reason. She didn't wish to be picked so soon. Especially since her mother would be having a little one soon. She wanted to be there to assist in the birth, to truly know her little sibling before she even considered having children of her own.

Another laughing screech touched the air from the open side of the village, followed by a scream from the side of the woods. It had an odd pitch to it, one that made the hairs stand on the back of her neck. She had never heard such a sound, one so full of fear and terror, pain and anguish.

She heard many more such screams within seconds. They melted together to form a horrifying background as the lights flickered, slowly going out as elves ran around the village, general chaos the most apparent thing as hunters and warriors scrambled for their weapons as the call spread through the group. Spiders. Some she-elves lent a hand, knowing the art of war well enough they felt they could help beat back a few spiders.

They could have, if a few was all that dared venture forth. But no small number came. Hundreds upon hundreds, until the entire woods seemed to be all black bulbous bodies and big glowing yellow eyes, came forth and dared the elven arrows that were shot quickly and with incredible accuracy, despite the haste the archers were in. The black flood continued, pressed on, crawling over their slain kin, grabbing elves in the front rows, sinking long fangs into the pale flesh even as the elves they held hacked at them, hoping to lower the numbers of spiders sweeping forth even if their own lives were forfeit for the amounts of poison rushing into their veins.

Someone said they would leave now—the amount of elves killed would satisfy their appetite. But they kept coming, kept driving forward. Now those elves who were not warriors, nor even skilled in the art, grabbed at anything at all—sticks, spears, discarded bows and swords, even buckets and fire brands were wielded against the beasts that threatened their existence.

More and more were cast aside, dead or dying, but on both sides. The elves won, eventually, at a very heavy cost. She lowered her commandeered spear with a sigh, nearly letting it drop as she ripped a small piece of cloth from her tattered gown to dip in some of the water standing in a barrel not far away, cleaning her face and arms, checking to see how much of the blood on her was her own. Seeing she was well enough, she looked around, and felt the small feeling of victory she had felt as they drove the last of the spiders back into the forest leave her entirely.

Destruction was everywhere. There wasn't a house in the village that was untouched, with all walls standing and without the kiss of flames dancing on the roof. Bodies, bloodied black and crimson, lay on the ground wherever she looked.

There—the she-elf she had known since they were but toddlers, and beside her, the elf who had made an arrangement earlier to chase her around the spring festival. They had planned to wed by the following one. He had been pursuing her for decades, but she had waited until her friend was old enough to sit on her own to be caught.

She sighed and closed their eyes, straightening them slightly so they lay together instead of heaped near one another. The previous screams, which had given over to grim silence on the part of the elves and the hissing anger of the spiders, was now replaced with the unfriendly roar of a fire she had once welcomed, the screams turned to sobs, moans and tears.

Limping slightly, she made her way to her father's home, expecting to find her mother there, tending to the wounded soldiers who yet lived. The house was empty, so she went instead to her mother's best friend's house. The she-elf was sobbing quietly over the inert form of her husband. The pair had been together far longer than she had been alive. When the elf looked up at her, despair, grief and death greeted her, making her back quickly from the sight.

Traveling on, she stopped at every house her mother might have gone to for one reason or another, but couldn't find her. Finally she stopped an elf who was trying not to pass out from the pain of his obvious injuries as he helped take care of the mortally wounded. He frowned at her for a moment, and then through the blood and grime they recognized each other. His lips parted, his eyes softening slightly. He looked down, then lifted his gaze to her eyes and lightly touched her cheek with a bloodied hand. He leaned down slightly and kissed her other cheek before moving on.

She stood there dumbly for a long moment, her hand clenching over the spear she had absently carried with her, using it for support from time to time as she was confronted with the horror around her. Then, forgetting her own physical pain, she ran forward, the spear falling from senseless fingers as she found and knelt beside her parents, the horrible thing she had feared with the elf's silent sympathy suddenly a horrifying reality.

After that, after seeing their glassy stares that had nothing to do with living rest, everything went numb. Nothing registered. No one trying to move her, not the sobs and tears that were being shed by those around her, the tears and sweat mingling with the two-tone blood on the ground until the spiders were all dragged into the forest and burned. The ash stung her at her eyes and made her nose and throat burn, but she still didn't cry, and she didn't move.

The look in the eyes of so many elves loomed up before her eyes, the grief that could mean death for those who had managed to survive the night glowing hollowly, and growing within her. She was on the brink of giving in when the dawn loomed up around her.

Someone covered her parents, not daring to move them to the graves being dug as long as she knelt there, trying to understand, to cope. A heavy hand fell onto her shoulder a moment later, startling her though she didn't jump. She hand neither the will nor the energy to jump. The elf said something, and then she was pulled to her feet, and passed off to another whom she didn't really see. He lifted her onto a horse and then walked off, leaving her staring glassily at the world around them.

When he returned, he mounted behind her, sliding his arms around her gently. His voice was a bit rough with emotion, but soothing as he tightened his hold on her. He promised they would take care of her, take her away from the spiders. Away from this place, the blood, the memories… the carnage.

Oleydya shuddered awake, biting back a sob. She shuddered and drew her knees to her chest and lowered her head, trying to regain her composure while taking sharp, shuddering breaths.

Suddenly strong arms fastened around her, holding her tightly, offering warmth and comfort that she desperately needed. "Shh," he murmured faintly. "What is it?"

"I just… just remembered the attack."

He sighed and held her more tightly, kissing her temple as he thanked whatever had awakened him as she sobbed out the loss. They had spoken about the attack before, and he recalled the confusion on her face when she confided she had never cried over the death of her mother, father, and unborn sibling. "It's alright, Leyda. We're far away now. Let it all out." He kissed her crown as she proceeded to do just that.

A faint shadow shifted, and he looked up to suddenly understand. He smiled faintly and bowed his head to the being who had made sure he woke as Oleydya had needed someone to comfort her. The shadow returned the gesture and slipped into the night, unseen.

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A/N:** Well, now that I've depressed myself, how many of you did I confuse for a while? 


	13. Of Course

Hi guys. Yawn It's eight. Eight am on a holliday weekend. And why am I up? Because Nea _called_ me and told me she'd e-mailed me this chapter. That nut has been up since five. Crazy girl. And she's working on Among the Brambles some, so expect one chapter... but she sounded pretty frazzled. I think it's going to be stuck for a little while.

I got one nasty review that I think kind of doesn't fit with my story, but my normal reviewers are nice and very much appreciated. Even at eight.

Well. Chapter here. Bed there. Bye. (I am going to strangle her.)

**_  
  
Chapter 13_**

As Legolas watched, Nenya's eyes went on animal mode, flickering over everything constantly, searching for a threat. They entered the palace, Argile on her shoulder as Zetea went back to where they had left their wolf pack milling restlessly in the woods. The would undoubtedly go deeper to avoid being spotted and hunted by the elves.

He had reached a truce of sorts with her after an uneasy while following their fight. He didn't bring it up, and neither did she, letting it sink into the unsaid jumble that blocked the path to a real friendship between them. It worried him a bit, leaving so much unsaid, but it irritated him more. Elves usually liked him, accepted his friendship eagerly. Those that were deterred by his title came around in time, and that was the only stumbling block he had ever come across, until he met her

With her, it was a secret she assumed would drive any elves from her, one she thought made her less than they were. She didn't care about his title any more than he did, cared just for the fact that he was an elf, which had been equated with rejection in her mind at some point.

He could think of no way to prove that she could trust him, trust her entire group, as friends. But he had to smile, internally, at least, at the chance to turn the tables. He slid up to her shoulder, leaning his head down slightly so his words went to her ear alone. "You are safe in my protection, Nenya," he murmured.

She glanced up at him, ever so briefly before her eyes returned to scanning the faces, the poses, the colors and moves. Anything in the hall, any movement, caught her attention and was cataloged carefully and quickly as threatening, non-threatening, or potentially either, needing further study. "You shall have to forgive me for not believing that, Legolas. But I have not known elves, and do not know their ways. Within this hall are several who offer great potential threat, even if at the moment they stand down."

He sighed softly and shook his head. "They are not going to attack you."

"Has it never happened that one elf has attacked another elf?"

"Of course it has, but rarely, and never when the elf in question was around one of royal blood… at least in Mirkwood."

"It pays to be spoiled, then?"

Legolas frowned slightly. "I should not dignify that jab with a response. I will say, however, that I am not the eldest prince. By the necessity of tradition, it is Teraien who is 'spoiled' as you put it, as he will one day be king."

"Woe to the elves of Mirkwood if you are right," she murmured softly as they approached the great hall. Still she kept watch on everything, her eyes darting back and forth so quickly he was surprised she could see anything enough to tell what it was. Practice, he supposed.

"He would do well at ordering others around."

"Well at the ordering, no doubt, but not at the understanding the reasons one would order, or what orders would be in their best interest." She drew in a deep breath and let it out as she closed her eyes for an instant, long only by the standard of her flickering attention to every minute detail. "This is your domain, prince," she murmured, stepping slightly aside.

"And I am yours to command," he agreed, remaining just behind her shoulder with a quick sideways move.

"Then I command you to lead us to your father," she sighed.

"Ah," he smiled slightly and straightened completely. "If that is your wish, you were headed about it all wrong. He shall be in the library now." He moved past her and led the group into the library, smiling at a few friends he saw, but pausing for none. "Father?" he asked, stepping into the room.

Nenya watched, feeling like a lost child as Legolas, once again a prince, stepped forward to be embraced by the king. She had only seen the Prince Legolas once before—when he stood on the path to warn the woodmen away from the wolves. The others of the group were greeted warmly in turn, before they were dismissed by Thranduil as he led her and Legolas to a room away from others. Solid stone formed the walls, and the only way in was the door they had used. It was a good room for private conferences, and to release some of her tension, as long as they were the only ones within.

Thranduil turned to her with a smile. "It is good to see you again, Nenya. Tell me, how have things gone?"

"They have learned many valuable skills that could be put to great use should they be needed to hunt spiders."

"Should we be needed? Wasn't that the point of this whole thing?"

Nenya looked at Legolas for a long moment, putting him back into his place as a group member when she lifted a brow and tilted her head at the door. After a lightening quick glance at his father, who remained silent, he left, closing the door behind him

Thranduil chuckled softly and motioned at a chair, taking one for himself. Then he contemplated the statement she had made that had prompted both Legolas's question and his removal. "You have told him nothing."

"He has had no success in finding a viable reason for me to tell him anything. I had even less reason to tell him what are merely shadows of suspicions in my mind. Or to tell you," she added as Thranduil's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"But if you are right, in whatever you suspect, what will become of the forest if they should succeed…"

"In killing me? The would have to get through a lot to do so when I am at home. Here it would be fairly easy in comparison, but I will not go without a fight."

"You fear for your safety here?"

"Every instant. I am surrounded by sounds, by movement, by stillness of rock and the array of weapons crafted by elves. It is not my place to be, I do not feel right here." Still, it wasn't herself she really worried about.

"I am sure your group felt somewhat out of place when they went to your home."

"For a few hours. My home is a wood-elf's home. Any wood-elf could be comfortable there. This is a home for dwarves. I am an elf, a wood-elf who has only ever known the trees. To live under a mountain is not something I can contemplate doing." She sighed softly and shook her head. "As to the question you began to ask, should I be killed in the continuation of this task, I have left a letter in my flet where either Argile or Zetea shall find it and bring it to you."

Thranduil frowned slightly. "Your preparedness for this worries me, Nenya."

"I take my promises seriously, Thranduil. You need not worry."

"I worry for you as well," he murmured, his frown deepening.

"You shouldn't," she stated softly. "I would like to return to my group now, or what of it remains."

"Oleydya's room is three down, then to your right."

"I recall," Nenya nodded slightly and slipped silently out the door, leaving Thranduil to think for a few minutes before Legolas returned, as Thranduil had expected he would.

"How did it go?" he asked he son quietly.

"I don't know what she thinks we learned that could be of use. We went out there and lived in the trees, and then we came back."

With a smile Thranduil looked at his middle child. Since the group had returned, Thranduil had been interested to see the changes in them. "You also learned to trust her, did you not? Trust you will need if you are to follow her into a spider tree."

Legolas blinked and sank down into the chair she had recently left. Slowly he frowned. "We trust her, but she doesn't trust us."

"Doesn't she?"

"I don't mean her life." Legolas dismissed that notion with a move of his hand.

"Then what?"

Legolas frowned slightly, wondering, briefly, if he should ask what it was she so feared them finding out, but he shook the thought away. She would have to tell him that. "She doesn't trust us any father than with her life."

Thranduil frowned and glanced up, seeing the frustration her choice had produced in his son. He smiled slightly. "So you found a she-elf who doesn't fall over herself to know you?"

"I believe you've confused me with Teraien," Legolas muttered softly, his eyes hardening.

Thranduil shook his head. "They hope for a crown from him, but enjoy having your friendship."

"The friendship of a prince, or of an elf?" he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Does this disturb you so for any reason beyond her resistance?"

Legolas smiled slightly, his eyes darting around the room. "I think she's rubbed off on me," he muttered after a moment, shaking his head. "I hear thousands of sounds my ears were numbed to before, smell and see so much my head is overwhelmed. I want to go back into the woods where there is less to attend to. At the same time, I know if I stay here long enough, I shall go back to ignoring it all, and will be at ease here, but I'm not sure that I would want to."

"You enjoy being in the woods that much?"

"I am half wood-elf, after all."

Father and son sighed, knowing if nothing could be done, fairly quickly, Legolas would end up moving into the forest eventually. "Yes, you are," Thranduil finally agreed. "And it is time for us to go to dinner."

Legolas nodded with a faint smile, but still felt odd walking down, on stone steps, into the vast cavernous hall. He was once again hit by too much, and closed his eyes in an attempt to bring his haywire senses under control, only to find that the removal of one sense only enhanced his others to a painful intensity.

"Legolas? Are you well?"

He smiled and opened his eyes. Eirthriel frowned in concern, lifting one hand to his cheek. "I am quite well, dear sister." He kissed her forehead after taking her hand. "It is just a bit different than what I have grown accustomed to."

"That would explain why your group members are the only elves not in the thick of things," she murmured.

He glanced where she indicated, saw Dareklien and Ertelen hesitate before forcing themselves, their steps slow and uncertain, into the midst of their family and friends. Miranol was mostly unaffected, but he dragged Oleydya with him to sit with his family and friends, since they knew she had none here. Looking around a bit more, he found Nenya hovering in the shadows, her eyes almost panicked as she took in the crowded room. Her breathing was too rapid, her pose too tense for his liking, now that he knew how relaxed she usually was while in her home.

He smiled at Eirthriel. "I shall collect her," he murmured, leaving his sister standing by the head table as he wove his way through the elves who would have paused him, reaching the she-elf's side before being paused. "Your seat is at the head table again," he informed her.

Her eyes flashed to his before she went back to studying the room. A slight shiver went over her skin, starting a series of trembles that made the dress she had been loaned shimmer unsteadily in the light around them. "I don't think I could eat," she answered at last, her voice tight.

As bad as it was for him, how many times worse it must be for her, he realized suddenly. "Come with me," he murmured. He urged her forward with a slight pressure, but she only went about a half step before she stopped again. "Trust me," he whispered, angling his head so she could hear him over the overwhelming deluge of noise. He pressed her to walk with him, and got her to Eirthriel without mishap, though several elves started to interrupt their progress. One look at Nenya's dark eyes was enough to make them back away.

Eirthriel smiled slightly when they arrived. "You have your choice of seats tonight, since Oleydya has abandoned us in favor of Miranol."

Nenya swallowed and looked back at the mass of movement before them. She closed her eyes and shuddered again. Legolas, his hand still at the small of her back, could feel it too well.

"She's not sitting with us this evening," he murmured. He plucked a plate from a passing elf and passed it to Nenya in time to catch a goblet of wine from another. "Follow me," he instructed, putting his hand once again att he small of her back when she didn't immediately move to follow him.

When Nenya guessed where they were going, she gave a half-running step before forcing herself to slow down again. Legolas chuckled softly over her shoulder, and touched her arm to guide her to a side of the balcony. The freer air of the woods filled their lungs, and they both drew it into themselves in large, grateful breaths, before relaxing into the chairs tucked into the wall of the mountain, nearly invisible from any where else on the balcony. Nenya closed her eyes in relief, having dropped the plate onto the table in front of them. "Thank you," she breathed, feeling the throbbing of her head recede to manageable levels.

He too waited until his head felt normal, and then sighed and slowly eased his weight back onto his feet so he could return to the dinner awaiting him. "I have to go. I assume you know your way…?"

"Mmm," she agreed softly, smiling slightly.

He paused before he would have left, realizing the silence around them. "Why don't they sing to comfort you tonight?"

"There have been no attacks since we left. The elves no longer fear to walk into the forest."

"Ah," he murmured, bowing his head slightly to her before walking back to the hall. He sighed slightly in annoyance as the assault on his senses began anew, and his second thought was to dull those senses with a bit of wine since his first was unacceptable—to escape. Looking at his seat, he debated whether his duty really _was_ enough for him to remain inside tonight. In addition to the noise, the sounds and smells, Teraien was sitting in the seat beside Legolas's own.

With a sigh Legolas took his seat, reaching for his wine goblet as the serving elves put his plate before him.

Unable to eat much, unable to drink much, and basically unable to hear himself think, the meal crawled by with painful slowness. The other group members had relaxed, but they were around family that was exuberantly welcoming them back. The family beside him was doing his best to ignore him. Not that Legolas minded. That was eminently preferable to the subtle barbs and taunts Teraien usually sent his way.

As soon as was acceptable, Legolas slipped to the winding staircase that would take him up to the peak of the mountain. When he opened the door, he startled an elf standing there.

"Nenya? How did you get up here?" he asked, frowning. The staff had been propped against the door as ever it was, so using the stairs wasn't an option. He glanced down at the balcony he had left her on, and saw several elven couples there, enjoying the evening in the company of each other and the stars. He shook his head. "You climbed up here rather than go to your room?"

"What room?" she retorted softly, her arms crossed over her middle before she tilted her head back to see the stars. She swayed slightly.

Legolas steadied her automatically, frowning. "How much did you drink?"

"What was in the cup," she murmured softly, trying, and failing, to find her balance. She apparently decided she couldn't because he was still holding onto her. "Would you let go—"

"Just so I could watch you fall off the mountain? I think not." He held her more tightly as she began to struggle, somewhat weakly, which concerned him even more greatly than he had been.

"I wouldn't… fall…" her eyes ceased to focus on him, her words dropping to the faintest whisper before she slid into an unconscious heap, held upright only by the hold he had on her.

He sighed and looked down at her with a shake of his head. "Right. Never let her drink anything, Legolas. Never, ever, let her drink anything," he muttered, berating himself. Here had been nothing of such a nature at her home. She probably hadn't known the drink he'd given her would do this to her.

He sighed again and shifted her to a more proper sitting position, her head lolling forward, the flexibility she possessed making it so he had to catch her head rather than have it smack the stone floor. After some rather bonehead ideas on his part, he managed to pick her up. He started walking to the door, only to see it was shut. "Of course it is," he muttered, having a sinking feeling he would be unable to open the door with the few fingers he could shift free of Nenya's unconscious form.


	14. Bitter sweetness

Since this one is so short, a new one will be out sooner... Thanks to those who reviewed!

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_**Chapter 14**_

_A chance has come my way, I see, a chance to take the dear prince's life away._ With a smirk the dark elf lifted the wine goblet with deft fingers. _It shall be so simple to kill him here. So many witnesses who shall see nothing at all… at least until the dear prince has fallen so ill none of their supposed cures would possibly work!_

_But it's not as if they know the cure for what will soon ail him, after all. He will die so quickly, but first… Ah. First. The_ thought was savored as was the rich bouquet of the dark wine for a long moment_. First all the strength shall seep from his limbs, making him lose that vitality that makes him so beloved by all the land. He will be as helpless as a child, unable to move on his own, until even breathing and pushing blood through his veins is too much work, too much trouble. Then his life shall cease, carried away so simply._ The wine was sampled, rolled over the tongue to fully taste its bitter sweetness_. As simply as wood-elves consume wine, and humans consume ale._


	15. The morning after

Thanks to those three faithful reviewers. Here's the promised update! Juvinile delinquent: I thought sure I fixed that. I noticed it, I changed it... I _think_ I hit save and preview... hm... Oh well. It's fixed now! ; )

And, as ever, thanks to Nea for trying to help this story as much as she can.

* * *

Her head hurt.

That was all she knew when she first drifted back into consciousness, closing her eyes to block the light.

The next thing she realized was her memory was fuzzy between having finished her meal and ending up… wherever she was. Sheets beneath her, a pillow under her cheek and the heavy warmth of a blanket over her, there was a vast difference between this and the stone she recalled seeing last.

The air was stuffy but quiet, almost respectfully still, if air could be said to be so when it didn't refer to the air of people. _Yeah_, she decided, _something's not right here._ Her thoughts were going haywire, and not really making sense, even to her, though of course she knew what she meant. It was just… her head hurt and was fuzzy, and every time she tried to clear up the fuzz her head just hurt more.

Deciding she was not ready to face the confusing world around her in such a state, she sighed softly and buried her face in the pillow, closing her eyes more tightly.

"I thought I heard you stirring."

Nenya's eyes snapped open, and she recoiled from the light, putting a hand in front of her eyes as she squinted around the room. Even as she did so, her sluggish mind tried to figure the voice out. Male, and somewhat familiar… "Legolas?" she asked, having to clear her throat to say anything, and even then, it came out as a bit of a rasp.

"How's your head?"

How'd he know? "Hideous," she rasped, trying to locate him in the room. She only spotted him when he moved.

A few blinks showed he was sitting in a chair near a bookcase, and now replaced a book before picking something else off the shelf. He carried it over, and she focused on it for something to do. It was a pouch. He opened it and poured some powder into a goblet that had been waiting by the bed. After giving it a swirl, he handed it over. "Drink," he ordered softly, his voice quiet.

She was thankful for that. The sound of her own voice hurt her head. She struggled upright, and almost gave up as the blood crashed through her head, making her painfully aware of every heartbeat. A moan escaped her, and the dizzy disorientation that accompanied the pain nearly knocked her back to the bed.

Legolas caught her with one arm, cradling her head gently in his palm while bringing the goblet to her lips. For the life of her she couldn't figure out why he wanted her to drink it so much it couldn't wait until her head stopped hurting so badly. There were herbs one could boil to get rid of headaches, but she couldn't think of any right now. She couldn't think of much of anything, to be perfectly truthful. "Drink," he whispered again, tilting the glass slightly so she really didn't have a choice.

After a few swallows she pushed it away, and he allowed her to do so, setting the goblet aside before getting her settled, upright, against the headboard of the bed. She carefully closed her eyes and rearranged her head, trying to keep it still.

"Better?" he asked suddenly.

She frowned slightly and opened her eyes. She blinked at the absence of pain, slowly moving her head slightly. Nothing. "Yes," she breathed. Sense flooded back into her brain, and she reached for the goblet, identifying the scent as one of the herbs she would have looked for if she had been capable. "Thank you."

He nodded and got up, returning to his chair by the bookshelf.

Senses restored, she tucked her loosened hair behind her ears and looked around. She was in a bedroom, which was obvious from the presence of a bed in the room. Brilliant deduction. But now she noticed other things, that made her uneasiness with her lack of memory grow.

A bow and quiver resting by one wall. A tattered hunting cloak folded on another chair, with a pair of well worn boots off to the side, the toes at crazy angles to each other. The bookshelf full of books, which Legolas was again reading from. The shirtless prince himself.

He was too comfortable here.

"Where am I?"

He glanced up, blinking slightly to pull himself out of the world of his book. "My room," he answered absently, looking back at his book.

She drew in a quick breath and sent a quick prayer to the stars before asking her next question. "What happened last night?"

His eyes lifted a tad too quickly for her liking, focusing on her with a frown. "What do you remember?"

"That's not what I asked," she murmured, trying not to let color run into her ears. To hide any that might have risen against her will she unbound the few intact braids, letting the dark curtain swing over her ears and partially hide her face.

"You passed out, and I carried you here."

"Is that all?"

He lifted a brow at her. "Basically."

"Basically?" she asked hesitantly.

"The walls would tell you I cursed more than usual, trying to get you down the staircase. They were simply not made for carrying an inert elf down them. One person wearing a bow has to be careful not to scrape his weapon against the walls."

She frowned her incomprehension. "What stairs?"

"The stairs from the high exit from the mountain. You didn't use them to go up, so I doubt you knew of them."

Her headache was threatening to return. She touched her temples in confusion. "Then how did I get up?"

"You climbed the mountain, he answered, getting up again, bringing her the goblet once more.

She didn't protest finishing it off. "Why did I pass out?"

"My guess would be too much wine."

Wine? When had she ever drank wine? Realization dawned, her eyes widening. "You gave me wine?"

He winced as if he had been berated with that already. "I didn't think at the time how much it could affect you. Believe me, I have sworn to keep you from ever tasting it again."

"I appreciate that," she murmured, easing back against the headboard as the fluid medicine relieved her returning headache. "That's all that happened?" she asked, wanting to be sure.

His eyes darkened slightly. "Nice to know you find the thought so repulsive." He got up and waked to stand before a tapestry of the outside world. No windows, of course. Living in a mountain definitely had its drawbacks.

Sighing softly she closed her eyes, and pushed herself out of the bed. She wavered a bit, but the herbs held her steady, lending her strength to cross the room, her hand curving over his wrist. "There cannot be anything more than friendship between us, Legolas."

"You struggle against that."

"Because the thing that decrees we must not be any more than friends would also serve to make us enemies."

He frowned, turning slightly to look down at her. "You speak of something more than your fear of being rejected?"

Her eyes flew to his face, but she couldn't deny his summation of her, though she hated the word fear. "Yes," she agreed shortly. "There is a bond between us, which cannot be crossed to become more than friends. It would be easy to cross into enemies."

His frown grew darker. He turned and caught her, his hands closing over her upper arms with barely restrained strength. "Are you evil?"

"No," she answered, frowning back at him.

"Do you enjoy evil?"

"No," she shook her head. "Of course not."

"Of course not," he agreed. "Do you believe my answers to be yes?"

"No."

"Then why do you insist we are more likely to be enemies than friends?"

She sighed and closed her eyes against the blue fire of his. "You will despise me for not explaining things to you, Legolas."

"Then explain them now."

"I cannot."

"Why not?"

"Because it is not just my secret to tell. It cannot come out until the time is right, and it is definitely not time."

Legolas was ready to shake her. He'd threatened it on occasion before, but he had never come this close. A faint sound came from beyond, but he was ignoring everything except the dimming sparkle of black eyes.

"LEGOLAS!"

He jumped and let go of her, automatically shielding her with his body as he faced whatever threat had just arrived. He blinked and relaxed when he saw his father.

"What do you think you are doing?" Thanduil barked, making Legolas flinch for the noise.

"Nothing, Thranduil," Nenya spoke up sharply from behind him.

"I know nothing when I see it, and that didn't look like it!"

She didn't waver as she walked closer to his father, didn't hesitate. "Calm yourself, Thranduil!" she shouted back at him, though without heat.

Thranduil's face, red in anger, went darker for a moment before going strangely white.

Nenya nodded in satisfaction, her voice hard. "If you are done insulting our integrity, I shall leave so you may discuss whatever you came to speak with your son about."

Thranduil sighed softly, his voice oddly humble as he apologized. "Forgive me, Nenya. This caught me off guard."

"The same could be said for me. I unknowingly consumed some wine last night, and apparently passed out in Legolas's presence.

Thranduil nodded, and Nenya left. Thranduil turned to one very confused prince awaiting an explanation of some sort for the odd behavior just displayed. "Friendship with her would be good, Legolas, but no more may come of any relationship with her."

"Why, Father?" he asked, more irritated that they kept him in the dark than that they presumed to control him in such a way. She may be interesting, but romance? They weren't even friends yet. If they ever would be. "What is it in her that you find off-putting, that she also things would place her at a distance from all other elves?"

"What?" Thranduil frowned. "I don't know what she told you—"

Legolas sighed and shook his head. "She tells me nothing, Father. Even when extricating herself from what she views as an impossible situation that wasn't there in the first place she said only that it could not be."

"She is correct."

"I've gathered that you believe it. What I want to know is why you and she both believe there is something so fundamentally wrong with her that she is unworthy of having elves as friends."

Thranduil frowned darkly. "Why would you believe that?"

"Because she has as much as said that," Legolas motioned in irritation with one hand. "She closes the world out for fear of being rejected by it, but refuses to tell me why. She doesn't hardly even _speak_ to the rest of the group."

Thranduil sighed and shook his head. A great sorrow seemed to fall onto his shoulders, and weary eyes looked back at his son for an instant before falling away once more. "Her mother was as wrong as I was," he murmured softly, frowning at a corner, at the small bit of dust missed by the maid. "She cannot undo the damage she has done." He focused on Legolas. "You shall have to find a way to befriend her."

"How, if she won't speak to me? She shuts herself in a cage, locked away from the rest of the world." He sighed and crossed his arms tightly over his bare chest.

Thranduil tilted his head for a moment, studying the annoyance, the impatience, the concern and fear in his son for the elf in question. "Funny thing about cages, Legolas. They are locked on the outside."

Legolas frowned and blinked, before understanding flickered in his silvery-blue eyes. A slight smile curved his lips. He nodded. "Thank you, Father."


	16. A sip away

Okay, guys. I've gotten this written enough ahead that I can say this: I will either post after three reviews and 48 hours, or less reviews and more time.

Nea says I shouldn't say that, but oh well. Far fewer people like my story, anyway.

Hope this one is less confusing!

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_Perhaps I should have been more bold this time…_

_But he has changed! So much more wary, cautious. That trip made him more likely to spot your treachery._ The hissing voice cut into the black thoughts of the elf who haunted the halls of the palace.

_What care I for him? Is not his removal the desire that has spurred me on since mother died?_

_As if you care for her, anyway._

The dark eyes lowered for a moment, and then they flashed as the lips tightened. _She was weak_.

_Weak? Perhaps. Is that why you hate the prince? Because his mother loved him so?_

_No! He's a weakling! A sniveling excuse for an elf! He's not of high blood._

_As much as you are,_ the little voice whispered back.

_What do you know?_

_More than you think. More than you realize, more than you understand. How shall you kill this weak little elf prince if you're too much of a weakling to go through with, of all weak displays, poison?_

_Weak?!? I am not weak!_

_Aren't you? Why, then, does he yet live? You have had many long years to kill him. No one would have known._

_The time was not right._

_You were scared._

_NO! This has been planned._

_Oh, "PLANNED." Planed so well all the spider attacks didn't draw him into the wood as you expected. Instead, he goes off to train to kill them._

_But he is vulnerable there, in the wood, in the dark. I can get to him more easily than in the palace. I know the woods, the spiders. They obey me._

_Yessss, they obey you,_ hatred dripped in the hissing tone. _They obey you, but they cannot know when and where and why to kill what elf in what way as you would like it. They are indiscriminate killers. Anything they can eat, they kill._

_They killed more than just what they could eat in the attacks._

_You know why. You ordered them to attack. They obey you._

_Yes,_ a smirk came to the thin lips. _They obey me. I ordered the attacks… but they messed it up! They were supposed to attack the King and Prince on the path. Instead they just cut the village off from help, and then fled when the prince arrived!_

_They know him well, sssilly elf. They know his bow sings quickly and true, and any spider who hears that song is unlikely to eat anything else ever again. They obey you, but they are scared to attack when they have no chance to survive. It took too long for the messengers to reach the royals in their inspection of the previous attack. By the time they arrived, the spiders had nearly all been slaughtered._

_I told them to wait, to attack and draw off._

_They couldn't give them the chance to prepare, or their losses would have been far greater!_

_And as a result the prince got away. Along with the king._

_Yes… he got away. So organize another attack to bring him back._

_How would an attack bring him to the palace? He has no way of knowing of an attack. He will not return for that. There is no point._

_Gone sssoft, have you?_ The hissing voice taunted, anger drawing out the careful words in more hisses than usual. _After ssso many attacksss after causing ssso many deathsss by forcing elvess into the woodsss and then leaving them for your little friendsss… Now you pull back?_

_Too much disaster would lead to a true organization against the spiders. This little group will do nothing. What have they done? Lived in the woods for a time? That is nothing. It is best the people remain reassured by the king's actions for now. The spiders shall retreat for the time being… And when the prince returns to visit his dear family, I shall be waiting. Death is just a sip away…_


	17. Back Again

Okay: No snakes, and what I don't know doesn't bother me (the last part to Juvinile Delinquent).

And on with the chapter... and off to play a game, for me.

* * *

"It's good to be back," Dareklien admitted, dropping his weapons to the floor of the big flet. The others silently agreed as they climbed up behind him, leaving their weapons and cloaks there as they each went off to rediscover their favorite spot in the trees.

Legolas ducked through the flet of Nenya's he knew of, ending up in the small clearing where a few plants grew on the ground, in the sunlight. Nenya was there already, a few nearly grown wolves around her. Their heads turned to see him, and he was studied strictly for a moment. Nenya murmured something, and they relaxed, returning to their much more gentle play with her.

"Did you wish something?" she asked, looking up at him after a few moments of silence.

"A walk through the trees," he agreed softly.

"Then by all means—"

"With you."

She frowned, turning to look at him warily, as if sure she had misheard him. Seeing she had not, she frowned harder. "Why?"

"Why not?"

Slowly she got to her feet and followed him back into the trees. After a decent amount of time he led her back down to the wolves they had left. She looked at him quizzically, to which he merely smiled, bowed his head slightly, and left.

As the weeks passed he drew her on walks, pressed her to talk with him about anything and everything, never forcing her onto the topics they usually fought about. He did force her to participate in the training sessions they had all been convinced Oleydya should take, where she surprised them all.

For being so good at hunting, her skills with the blades was nearly laughable. She could hold them and look threatening enough, but beyond the natural grace of any elf, she had never had any training with them. Proficient for killing something without a weapon only, she became the pet project Ertelen worked on while the others worked on their own skills. Legolas tried to hone Oleydya's unusual talent for the bow with Dareklien shooting not far away, and Miranol would appear for sword practice when he wasn't off construction some marvel of metal which he refused to let any of the male team members see.

Whenever Nenya pulled away from them for more than a few hours, Legolas would track her down and bring her back. Despite her complaints and protests, her constant slipping off to some other place, she was spending more and more of her time with the elves she had brought into the forest.

Legolas was smiling to himself about the unprecedented success they'd had with her the previous day. She had laughed with them, played with them, ate with them. She had been relaxed the whole time, her eyes focusing on them without flickering away or attempting to intimidate.

So it didn't bother him when she didn't join them for the first meal, or for the training session. She was getting better, after all.

But when she didn't show up by mid afternoon, he began to wonder.

By nightfall without her, he was concerned.

When she didn't show up for stories, which she had missed only a handful of times, he was downright worried.

He waited until the others noticed her absence to allow them to send him off to find her, going immediately to the flet he knew of, then to the clearing, and then he ran through five different tree paths they took when he convinced her to walk with him. She wasn't anywhere.

Searching the sky, letting the stars light the world for him, he was unable to find either Argile or Zetea, which meant he hadn't a clue where she could be.

Taking a deep breath, he felt along the wall of the flet with her books, searching for the door in the wall that had led her away from him on so many occasions. When he found it, he hesitated again, but followed the branch up to another flet.

"Go away, Legolas," she muttered before he could enter. "This place is off-limits."

"Then come some place you allow me."

"You already try to blur the lines. You were not ever led to the flet that leads here, but that does not deter you from using it to seek me out."

Her bitter voice paused him for a moment. So, maybe he had pushed a bit too hard, too fast. "You cannot hide away from us forever."

"I know that, silly elf. I do try to prolong it, though."

Getting the feeling she was not talking only of the day, he hesitated once more. He looked at the leaves before him, knowing she was just beyond, not wishing to see or speak with him. In defeat he slowly bowed his head. "I shall leave you be for now." He lifted his eyes as if she were before him. "But only because you leave me no choice."

When he got to the male flet, Dareklien glanced up. Miranol looked beyond him, as if expecting to see her. "Is she alright?" he asked after a moment.

Legolas shook his head.

"What's wrong?"

He shrugged.

"You're a fountain of information, Leaf," Ertelen grumbled.

"I don't know what's wrong. Not truly. She refuses to tell me."

The three elves shook their heads. "If she doesn't come back soon, we may have to net her," Dareklien muttered.

Legolas smiled slightly at the mental image. "I doubt that will work."


	18. Trapped

Thanks, guys! And here's the chapter as promised... though maybe early. I'm not sure. Three people say anything about this chapter and you get a new one by Saturday.

Moon-lit night: You guessed! pout

Juvinile delinquent: Can I just call you JD? My comment was in response to your review. You can't review as one person three times... but you could review annonymously and I would never know, unless you told me. AU is alternate universe, according to Nea, and she would likely know. It's something totally against the book, which my story IS NOT, thank you very much. As for Mary-Sue, she couldn't give me an answer for that, as no one has been able to adequately explain it to her. The best she could come up with is a perfect girl who can do everything, and looks fabulous doing it, always has perfect clothes described to the smallest fiber out of place, often has eyes that change color... you get the idea. No flaws, and the guy in question always falls head over heels in love with her by chapter three... okay, so I'm exaggerating a bit. But not by much, from what I've gathered. Again, it doesn't fit my story.

* * *

The elves crouched and waited, each one hidden as well as they could be within the branches. A figure stepped out of a flet and walked down the branch, when she was suddenly knocked off the path by a not to gentle nudge from one of the hidden elves. She fell without a sound, into a large net.

Legolas jumped down to a branch near her. "I can't believe that worked."

An unearthly cry escaped her as she struggled against the net. Her voice was nothing more than a hiss. "Releasse me!"

"Not until you tell us why you have avoided us for so long," he countered, walking out of her reach as her hand darted through the cords, her fingers crooked as she tried to claw at him.

Her eyes narrowed, a low growl brought forth from her lips, which were twisted over glistening teeth. "I'm warning you, Elf. Release me."

A long, angry howl came from the ground below them, followed by a harsh cry above them. Argile and Zetea descended, picking at the rope fibers. Realizing a moment too late the danger they had let themselves in for, Legolas drew his knife and cut her down. She threw him from the branch as she got free, her hands curling around the branch as she paused an instant before hauling herself up, the net falling with him as he fell to the earth, long shining teeth finished what the fall didn't, closing savagely over his throat, crushing through bone and flesh so easily. The stars faded from his eyes, blocked out in the last instant by the figure that crouched over him, starless eyes dark and full of hate—

Legolas jerked upright, breathing too quickly, bathed in sweat. He closed his eyes and drew a hand through his hair, pushing the sweat-slicked tendrils behind his ears. What a nightmare.

He sighed and got to his feet, noticing how shaky his steps were. He forced them to calm enough he could walk through to the flet she had tried to banish him from, aware for the first time in months how slender the branches were, how they swayed and creaked with his weight.

"Nenya?" he called softly when he reached the flet. He knocked on one of the branches. "Nenya, please."

Maybe it was something in his voice, or maybe it was because he had asked nicely, but whatever the reason, the leaves parted, and black eyes looked up at him curiously. "What happened?" she asked, drawing him inside after studying him intently for an instant. She pressed a hand to his forehead, as if thinking he might be ill. He shook her hand off. Elves didn't get sick. Not like that, anyway. "Legolas?"

He swallowed, and realized he didn't know what to stay. Here he was, allowed into forbidden territory with the elf that had shunned them for nearly a week, and he was tongue tied. He reached out, cupping her face in his hands, tilting her head up so he could see her midnight eyes in the light of the stars above them. In his dream, they had been so hateful, gleeful as he died, untouched by the stars which glimmered in the obsidian depths now.

"Legolas, what happened to you?" She brought her hands up and pulled his from her face, pushing him backwards until he was sitting on a branch or a chair. He couldn't look away from her to find out. "Legolas?"

"Dream," he finally managed.

Her concern wasn't abated by that. Elven dreams were not a cause for such torment. "What kind of dream?" she asked softly, trying to smooth the worry from her voice that he could see in her eyes.

"We trapped you in a net because you had been avoiding us. You were furious, to put it mildly. The wolves and falcons reminded me…" he broke off, cleared his throat and continued. "Reminded me they tolerate us for you. When you were in danger they had no difficulties coming to your aid."

"Of course they would," she agreed softly. "As they would for you, or any in my group."

"Not if it would mean they were against you," he sighed slightly, keeping his eyes open so he didn't have to see those hateful eyes again. The image was floating through his mind, and even looking into her eyes now, seeing gentle concern there, even that didn't banish them completely. "In my dream you knocked me out of the tree, and they tore into me. Before I died, you knelt over me…" he shuddered. Nenya waited, knowing that he needed to get the details out to get over the nightmare, and a bit curious what had so upset him. "Do you hate me?"

"What?" the sole word was startled out of her.

"Do you hate me? I've pressed you when you would have preferred being left alone, I've tried to make you realize we accept you as you are, but you hide away from us still. Do you hate me? If I were to die, would you kneel beside me in sorrow or glee?"

Legolas lifted a hand to his stinging cheek, his eyes wide as she backed away from him, her eyes as angry as they had been in his dream. He rubbed the skin absently, looking at her in confusion. "What was that for?"

"Your idiocy," she snapped, scowling at him. "Your inconsistency. In my limited experience with elves, males seem to believe she-elves are flakey and flighty. I can see they've never dealt with you!"

"What?" he frowned, dropping his hand.

She winced slightly at the mark on his cheek, but her anger kept her from feeling sorry for long. "I avoid you to protect myself, you stupid elf! When you learn the truth you will turn from me, withdraw the friendship you offer so forcefully. When you do, I will be left here. I have always been alone, but never lonely. If you become my friend, that will change. I'll look around my flets, and I'll remember where you and I walked, spoke, where we became friends, and I'll miss it. I'll miss what I should have known never to allow myself, what I should have resisted." She paced to the other side of the flet and returned, shaking her head. "I do my best to keep you away, and you push harder. You almost make it, so I escape, and you dream I'm some wicked orc of an elf who would delight in your death. A dream is a dream, but to believe it enough you are unable to brush it off…"

Legolas closed his eyes, disgusted with his own behavior, now that it had been pointed out to him so brutally. He got up and caught her, pulling her against him.

"Wha… what are you doing?" she asked, when some slight struggling hadn't gotten her released.

"Holding you," he grumbled, wondering how many more injuries she would inflict upon him before he was able to get some sleep.

"Why?"

"Because I think you need to be held for a minute, and I can't think of any apology that would be eloquent enough." He pulled her closer, shifting slightly so she couldn't jab him as easily as her struggles became more determined, and then frantic. "Now hush. I'm not letting go until you relax, so get used to it."

Nenya's eyes were wide. She worked her hands between them until they were splayed over his chest, and pushed with all the force she could muster. A slight space formed between them for an instant, but Legolas shook his head and pulled her back, holding her so tightly with one arm he was able to use the other to pull her hands up so her arms were draped over his shoulders.

Without leverage, Nenya cast about the room for anything she could use to free herself. The only thing she came across she had to dismiss. She wanted her freedom, but not at the cost of killing him. She took a deep breath. "Let me go," she growled.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"How long has it been, Nenya, since someone held you?"

Not since her mother. "Eirthriel had just turned five hundred," she murmured.

The body against her tensed slightly, and he shook his head before releasing the tension with a sigh. "Nenya," he breathed, his breath warm against her cheek. "Your mother left that long ago?" When she nodded mutely he shook his head, moving slightly. A gentle kiss touched her forehead. "You should have come to us. You were too young to be here on your own."

"I managed just fine," she defended at once, pulling against his arms again.

"I know," he agreed, tightening his hold. "But at what price? Was your independence worth it if you can never trust any other elf?"

She couldn't think about that. She could never trust any elf not to hate her when they knew the truth. It would shock and horrify them, and they would leave her to the dark woods alone, if they didn't try to destroy her, which was what she expected they would try to do, no matter what Thranduil would say to the contrary, or even what he might order. "Please let me go," she begged, her throat tightening.

He sighed softly, but shook his head once more.

"Why not?" she whispered, swallowing hard.

"I can't," he whispered back, his tone as tortured as she felt.

"Why not?"

He swallowed, and searched her eyes for a long moment, giving her a chance to enjoy seeing the stars shimmer in his. "Because, whether you like it or not, you are my friend."

"No."

"Yes," he countered, laying his cheek against hers. "Please accept this."

"I can't."

"Yes you can," he promised.

"You'll leave. You'll hate me."

"You think I don't already?" he asked softly. "You've turned the world upside-down and inside-out since you stepped into the halls, and you don't show any signs of letting up any time soon. You're confusing, irritating, often irrational, more often too logical, and overall an absolute nightmare, especially when it comes to my peace of mind. Why I got the idiotic notion in my head to befriend you in the first place I may never understand, but I did, and I have, and as torturous as it may be to both of us, as much as we may hate each other for it, there's nothing we can do to change the past."

"You can't hate and still be friends."

"Sure you can," he murmured. "And we are, so give up the denial, give up the fight and the resistance. If you didn't care, if we weren't friends, you wouldn't have been concerned by my nightmare, and you wouldn't have been hurt by what I said."

She stilled, not daring to breathe as she found she couldn't refute his claims. "No," she whispered softly in utter horror.

"I'm sorry."

"No you aren't," she grumbled.

He smiled slightly, resting his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry you've been so long without anyone. Sorry you find the thought of a friend so hard to accept. Sorry you still cannot find it in yourself to trust I won't be scared off by whatever secret or secrets you keep. But you're right. I'm not sorry I finally figured out I broke through the barrier you keep trying to build up around you."

"You needn't sound so smug," she muttered, looking away from him. "Would you let me go now?"

"You haven't relaxed," he chided, a smile in his voice.

She growled softly, then consciously forced herself to relax. As she did so, she became painfully aware of how close they had gotten through all of his attempts to restrain her. "There, I'm relaxed. Now will you give me some room to breathe?"

"You aren't relaxed." Though he didn't released her, he lightened his hold a little bit, giving her enough room she could no longer feel his heart beating against hers.

With a growl of impatience, she attempted to relax again. To help, she thought of the last time her mother had held her.

"It's time for me to go, my darling child," Garenla murmured.

"Why must you leave now?" Nenya asked with a frown. Her mother was still weak from the spider poison in her veins.

"It is time. You will understand some day, Nya," Garenla pulled her daughter into a hug. She rested her head against her child's, smiling slightly, a pain-filled smile.

"What do I do?"

"You wait until it is your time. You keep doing what you have always done. Someday," Garenla smiled, "someday you will have another in these flets. Eventually, you may even have children of your own here."

"No one else shall use our flets," Nenya declared fiercely.

"Child, you are too young to make statements about the future with such certainty. No one can tell all the paths of the future, even among the Valar." Garenla brushed back a bit of Nenya's dark hair. "I must go now."

"I'll tell—"

"There is no need for them to come with me, dear. They cannot, anyway."

Nenya sighed. "Mother, why can't I go with you?"

"It is not your time. You have other things to do. When the stone returns you will have to respond."

Nenya's bowed head lifted slightly. "But I am too young to do such!"

"Now. But the call will not come for many years, I'm sure. You will have strength enough by then." Garenla smiled faintly and held Nenya closer for an instant. Then she sighed and let go, leaving the flets without looking back.

Nenya sighed and looked around in confusion, wondering what she should be doing right then, though she felt rather directionless without her mother. Her eyes fell on the pouch of food her mother had prepared for her journey to the West. She snatched it up, and ran after her, but she got to the edge of the woods without finding her. To avoid the woodmen she had gone back home, wondering how her mother planned to reach the Undying Lands without any food.

"She shall come back for it in a day or so," Nenya told herself.

She never had.

Not the most relaxing memory she could have chosen, Nenya realized, but she couldn't force herself to drag up another one. Instead she focused on the world around her, and realized she wasn't as uncomfortable being held now as she was when she first drew her against him. Of course, then she had wondered what he was trying to do. It seemed quite likely, now, that he was just trying to drive her absolutely nuts.

She drew in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. How relaxed was relaxed enough? She couldn't get much more relaxed, not without falling asleep, which she wouldn't intentionally do in the arms of any elf. Ever.

Still, this one claimed to be her friend, claimed it wouldn't change when he found out.

While she didn't believe the second part, enough of her believed at least that he wouldn't hurt her now that she felt safe enough in his hold. She took another deep breath and let it out.

Legolas smiled against her hair, feeling her try to work it out, to release the tension his grabbing her had caused enough to relax. A cruel trick, perhaps, but it was working, even if she would deny it in the morning.

If she relaxed before then.

"Are you sure it was me?"

He blinked. "What?"

"The person kneeling beside you. Could you see clearly enough to see who it was?"

He frowned. "It was your hair and eyes," he murmured. "The rest had faded by then."

Her eyes lost a hint of their glimmer for a moment, but she shook her head and lifted her arms, burying her face against his neck after wrapping her arms around him. He blinked a few times, but was surprised again as she slowly relaxed against him, going boneless in his arms.

She fit well.

He nearly let go of her at the thought, since he wasn't supposed to think such about her, for whatever reason that they didn't want to tell him. He forced himself to hold on, pulling her closer for a moment before releasing her. He tucked some of her hair behind one ear. "See you in the morning," he smiled, one brow lifted, daring her to deny it even as he kissed her forehead and backed up to leave.


	19. Never mind

Hey! New chapter, aren't you glad?

Well, Nea and I are kind of out of luck for the next month--the internet we use to update will not be availible to us starting Friday until mid-september. I'll update at least once more--if you all review, I'll try to get around to it twice.

JD: Well then, as long as I don't know it's you not being signed in... then it's fine. LOL.

MoonLit-Night: I think you're right. Rather amusing, isn't it?

* * *

As prearranged, the 'spider specialist's' group returned to the palace of the king in midwinter. The elves were much more vigilant on this journey, for the wolves stayed behind. The canines had to struggle through the snow that drifted and blew several feet deep, so the elves could travel much more quickly on their own, walking with ease on the snow no matter its thickness.

Legolas looked down at the snow he was walking over, stopped and scooped some up. It was sticky, powdery snow which formed clumps without the slightest provocation. He clicked his tongue softly, drawing the attention of Ertelen, who took Legolas's expression in in an instant, turning to nudge Dareklien before they bent together to gather some snow. Miranol and Oleydya caught on quickly, and they all formed their weapons with the speed and ease garnered from years of practice.

They waited a moment, judging when the time was right, and then they all threw their icy projectiles at their leader, who was walking ahead. Waiting for a solid splash, they were disappointed when Nenya walked off the path, oblivious.

Or so they thought. An instant later snowballs were sailing at them. Since they were facing them, it was easy enough to avoid them, but war had been declared. All through the day, even as they walked on, they stopped time and again to attempt to hit one of their companions. They left behind a confusing trail for anyone who tried to follow it, scooping motions here ant there, the remains of snowballs scattered and skittered over the snow, falling into drifts before being covered once more. It would be all the more confusing for the lack of footprints, for even when startled the elves didn't leave behind trail enough that an instant of wind wouldn't blow it away.

This deep into the winter was the only time the wind slipped through the dark trees. It blew the snow around and made the forest seem even more unfriendly to those who knew it only in passing. For the six elves now walking within it, it was simply another time, another day. Despite their loss of the wolf pack, they could feel the watchful presence of Argile and Zetea above them, and the group knew their leader was just as watchful, though just as guilty of throwing snow as the rest.

However, she was the only one who hand not been caught unawares by the time they drew close to the palace. The others were a bit annoyed, but could see no help for it just yet.

Thranduil welcomed them back, before sending them all off to dry and changed, seeming a bit amused by the bedraggled elves. Indeed, he followed his son to find out how they had gotten to be in such a state without grim demeanors. He caught up just as Legolas called to Nenya.

"Nenya! Hold on!"

"What?" she asked, exasperation nearly tangible in her voice.

Legolas grinned and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Thought you needed a hug," he murmured softly, pulling her to a halt.

"I don't need anything from anyone."

Legolas lifted a brow, leaning against the wall, still holding her against him with one arm. "Sure you do. You just don't want to admit it."

"Cockiness may suit a prince, but it doesn't suit you."

"Meaning I'm not a prince?"

"No, you're the prince, but there are some things more befitting one of royal blood than the lowest his people will allow."

"Ouch. That was a bit low," Legolas murmured. "Makes up for the guilt I was beginning to feel for this."

"For what?" she asked suspiciously.

Legolas chuckled softly and spun swiftly around, pinning her to the wall. An instant later his last snowball was melting its way down her back. "That," he said softly.

"You will be repaid in full, elf."

"I'll look forward to it," he answered cheekily.

"Most wouldn't," she hissed, her eyes cold.

Legolas frowned and backed up. This wasn't the Nenya he knew. This was the Nenya from his dream… nightmare.

She reached behind her and pulled what remained of the snowball from her shirt, shaking herself loose of the last pieces after tugging her shirt from her pants. She crunched the snow in her palm, and turned her eyes to the hesitant prince. She'd scared him. Poor dear.

Smiling slightly, she advanced on him, knowing she could intimidate even the bravest, cockiest of elves when she chose. She chose that moment, watching with dark amusement as he backed up until she had him against the opposite wall as securely as he'd had her.

The snowball hit his chest with a satisfyingly moist splatter. He blinked and looked down at himself, sweeping the snow globs off with a quick, automatic motion. He looked up at her in shock.

She smiled cheerfully at his growing glare. "That, I believe, makes us even." She laughed softly and winked at Thranduil as she passed him, her steps lighter than they had ever been in the palace.

Thranduil looked after her, looked at his still stunned and beginning to shiver son, and chuckled softly. "Never mind."


	20. The last celebration

The dark-haired elf smiled slightly, ironically, to see all the elves dancing so gaily. The smile faded slightly as the elf spotted the young prince. Mirkwood could do so much better than that pathetic weakling. Though he _had_ survived his time in the wood.

The dark-eyed elf would have to take matters directly into hand after all, it seemed. There was no better solution. It wouldn't be difficult. It was amazing the number of friends one could fine in surprisingly low, and high, places.

A dark smile crossed the lips as a sip of dark wine was taken from the goblet. A drop escaped, leaving a trail that looked like blood down the pale cheek as black eyes flashed.

_Enjoy tonight, dear little prince._

_If I'm lucky, it'll be the last celebration you ever see._

__

* * *

Okay, I'm back, with a couple new chapters... Sorry about the delay!


	21. The sip

Eirthriel wrapped her arms about her brother's neck, grinning as he swung her around. "Miss me?"

"Of course," Legolas agreed, kissing her forehead. "So much I just about faded away," he teased.

She punched his shoulder lightly when he set her down. "No one should joke about such things!"

He chuckled softly and tucked her against him, walking with her, his head tilted to hers conspiratorially. "Tell me, sister dear, why has Selerind been handing around?"

"Who says he has?" she asked, trying for a tone of innocence.

Having taught her that tone, he didn't buy it. "Eirthriel," he drawled, drawing her name out in a simple remonstration that warned her he would take harsher action if she forced him to.

"Why would he be hanging around, brother dearest?"

"I can think of no possible reason. Have you had any more luck finding one?"

She looked up at him, nudging him with her elbow. "Come now."

He chuckled softly and kissed her temple as they neared the royal table. "Do you like him?"

The tips of her ears went rosy, but she nodded. "Yes."

"Then I shall speak with him."

She blinked. "Legolas," she began, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"I shall simply warn him that if he hurts you, I will eviscerate him. If he does anything more than is _allowed_," he placed faint emphasis on the word, "then I will assure the she-elves more company in the sewing rooms."

"You wouldn't dare."

He smiled at her breath of response. "Would you have him chance it?"

Eirthriel looked up at her brother and shivered slightly. "Not when you have that look in your eye."

"Look?"

"Cold, hard. Like a predator sizing up its prey."

He blinked as he made a swift comparison. Like Nenya. "Well… I shall speak with him at any rate."

"There's no need for that," an uncomfortable male voice murmured from behind him.

Legolas lifted a brow in mock surprise, not bothering to look behind himself to determine who it was. "Oh, my. Was that Selerind coming up behind me? Eirthriel, you could have noticed him and blushed or something to warn me," he chided softly, his voice gently teasing.

"You know I did just that," she countered, manually turning her brother around, giving him a shove towards the table. "Now go… entertain Nenya."

Legolas laughed at her flustered attempt at an excuse to be rid of him, but went o his place at the table without protest. "Sure you can handle this?" he teased softly.

Nenya glanced up at him, before her eyes went back to flickering over anything and everything. "I shall be forced to leave by the end of the meal," she answered quietly.

"That's an improvement," he murmured, catching her hand. "You are safe here."

"Here is where I am the least safe."

A severe frown brought his spirits down from the heights they had been hovering around to slightly below normal, for him. "You fear here? Beyond the thousands of sensory overloads?"

"Being here makes one vulnerable to an assortment of things."

"Like friendship?" he offered as the meal was set before them.

She was about to answer when she saw Teraien sit down beside Legolas. He smiled at her. She stared back for a moment, then lowered her eyes to her food. She pushed it around her plate, eating sparingly. "That, I have found, one may fall to anywhere."

He smiled slightly and took up his wine, leaning back in his chair as he watched those who danced. Used as he had become to eating smaller, highly filling meals, he found he needed little more than a few mouthfuls to be full, and took the time to study Selerind as he spoke with Eirthriel.

"It seems you may have another in the family before long."

"Perhaps," he agreed softly, watching as the two elves left to dance. "Would you join me?"

"Join you?" she asked, tilting her head towards him.

"Mm-hmm," he agreed absently. He frowned slightly and reached up to touch one of the small braids that kept her hair from her face. "I just realized you only ever braid your hair when we're here."

"I need it out of the way when we're here."

He frowned slightly and ran a hand through his hair. "I've never really thought about it."

"You pull it back before archery," she countered softly.

"True." He settled back in his seat, then looked out at the elves once more and recalled his question. "Well?"

She, having not followed his line of thought, lifted a brow. "Well what?"

"Dance with me?"

"Oh." Her ears pulled back slightly as a serving elf came up behind them to remove their plates. It was something he'd noticed on their hunts. Her ears would draw back ever so slightly when she picked up on a sound behind her. He guessed it came from spending so much time over alert and with wolves, but he wasn't really sure. When their plates were gone she looked out over the dancers. "I'm not anywhere near being decent."

"I saw you dance with my father the first night, Nenya."

"And I stepped on his toes."

"You did not."

She smiled faintly and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Sure you want to test that?"

"Why not?" He rose from his seat, offering her his hand. "I've already been abused today. What's a few squished toes on top of a battered ego and wounded pride?"

"Well met, Legolas. If you must," she sighed softly, allowing him to pull her to her feet and onto the floor.

Nenya cursed herself for giving in. She had forgotten what little she had learned the first night. Hardly surprising, considering this wasn't exactly something she had time to think through. She shook her head and was about to beg off when someone cut in. She stiffened as Teraien took her hand.

Looking up into his dark eyes, she tried to control her anger, but when he began to speak, suggestion obvious in his tone, and tried to dance her closer to the door, she was about to snap despite knowing it was no doubt an unwise thing to do.

Thankfully another hand rested on Teraien's shoulder before she lost control. He looked about ready to argue, but let his father cut in after a moment, during which he struggled internally with the decision to let her go or argue with his father. Nenya closed her eyes in relief and shook her head as Thranduil took his son's place in leading her around the room.

"Perhaps we should return to the table?" Thranduil suggested, his voice ringing with dry humor.

She nodded slightly, trying to avoid his feet if she could. "If you wish," she murmured, already walking back.

Thranduil chuckled softly behind her. "None of them have taught you to dance?"

"They wouldn't dare," she muttered darkly.

Thranduil smiled. "You have your mother's spirit, Nenya."

"But she and I are very different, as well," she countered, looking up at him.

"Are you?" he asked softly, his voice full of sorrow. He glanced distractedly up at the table, his attention then riveted by whatever he saw over what he was about to say. He quickened his pace, reaching the table in a matter of seconds, oblivious to the number of elves he had nearly knocked over in his haste. She had to bite her lip to avoid laughing as so many elves started to reply angrily to the interruption, only to see who had knocked them away, bowing their heads and biting their tongues as they passed even farther from his path. "Legolas? Are you well?" Thranduil's demanding tone brought her attention to the table at the head of the room in an instant.

Nenya was startled when Legolas lifted his head. His eyes were dull, glassy. His skin was too pale, a slight grey tinge to it, sweat standing out on his skin, trickling into his hair. His movements were slight. Sluggish. Slowly he shook his head, wavering slightly in his chair. "I… don't… think… so."

Thranduil rounded the table to reach his son's side. "Come on, son. I'll help you to your room.

Legolas slowly nodded, and tried to stand. His limbs trembled weakly, refusing to support him. He started to ease back down.

"Nenya, his other side," Thranduil barked.

She sped to their sides, pulling Legolas's arm over her head before she straightened, pulling him upright. "Oof! Knock off the waybread, Leaf!"

He smiled faintly, sweat beading on his upper lip. His strength was giving out even as they moved to support him. He managed to put up the pretense of moving his own limbs until they got to the corridor. Then he had no chance, feeling like a weak and helpless child as his father cradled him in his arms even as he barked orders at Nenya as if she was any servant standing around in the halls.

"Gat any of your group and have them find Ponstern. Then tell Eirthriel."

Nenya nodded briefly and left, not questioning his right to command her for an instant—not in this situation. She found Oleydya with Miranol, and told them the name she had been sent to give them. They paled and began asking questions, before they decided haste was the more prudent of choices open to them, and split up to find either the healer or the rest of the group, who would also assist in finding the elf.

Looking around, Nenya's flickering eyes found Eirthriel not far from where the princess had been dancing the last time Nenya glanced at her. Nenya cut through the dance, ignoring the irritated mutters and impatient glances she was treated to. When they stared too long, or stood in her way, she treated them to the coldest, blackest look she could muster, and they always gave way before long, though she could feel their gazes following her across the room.

Eirthriel was engaged in an intimate conversation with the male elf she had been dancing with most of the evening when Nenya strode up and tapped her on her shoulder. The two elves blinked and looked at her. The male forced a smile. "You wish to dance?"

Nenya blinked. She shook her head quickly when realization dawned. "No, I don't," she snapped. She turned to Eirthriel, dismissing the male with a slight move of her shoulder. "Your father bit me tell you Legolas has fallen ill."

"Ill?" Eirthriel asked, paling. "Ill how? When did this happen? Where is he?"

"Calm yourself!" Nenya ordered, holding the distraught elf with her gaze. "Bit your caller a good night, and then come with me."

Eirthriel took a deep breath and turned to her dancing partner, who nodded before she could say anything. He kissed her forehead and sent her off. Eirthriel trotted behind Nenya, trying to keep up with the fast stride. "Well?"

"It was not long ago, and we do not yet know. Ponstern, who I'm guessing is a healer, was sent for."

"The best healer," Eirthriel murmured softly, racing forward to enter her brother's room. When she entered it was to see Legolas looking worse than ever before, which was saying a lot, for Legolas had never been one to exercise a royal's right to avoid duty in the guard, and often volunteered for extra duty, both of which invariably came with wounds at some point, no matter the skill of the elf involved. "What has happened to him?"

Ponstern shook his head. "Poison, of some kind."

"Poison?" Eirthriel breathed. She dropped onto the bed beside Legolas, taking his hand. "Legolas?"

"He has fallen into a deep sleep, milady."

Eirthriel took a deep breath and looked up at the healer who had tried to save their mother after she was attacked by spiders on a family outing. "Will he wake?"

The healer's eyes failed to meet the distraught princess's.

Eirthriel's eyes widened and she looked back at her brother, the pale skin, the silvery gold hair. She touched his face lightly, reverently. He was slipping away. She could feel it.

Nenya drew Ponstern aside. "What poison?"

He shook his head. "I… can't rightly say," he answered softly, his shoulders slumping helplessly. He looked up at Thranduil before looking quickly away, unable to bear seeing the one who he had twice failed.

Thranduil turned to Nenya, his eyes hollow. "My son…" his voice broke off as his eyes misted.

She sighed softly. "Thranduil, sit with your children. As one of my group, his welfare is my concern as well. I shall look into it, if given leave."

He nodded numbly and looked at his son. He was moving to sit at the incapacitated prince's other side as Nenya left the room.

When she got to the hall it was surprisingly subdued. News of the prince's sudden and suspicious illness had spread through the hall, many leaving while others lingered for any news. The spider group had been milling about near the door, and looked at her eagerly. Somehow they read in her eyes that things were not well. Their faces fell, eyes dropping to the ground.

Nenya looked around the room, her eyes scanning for anything she could have missed. They had been given the same food, the same drink as everyone else, by whatever server had food when they walked by. When had the poison been administered? How? She closed her eyes and thought back over the evening, pulling up their conversation, their dances, her anger as Teraien cut in and…

Then. Someone could have done something then, while they were dancing. She had been looking to Legolas, not to the rest of the world, not as she should have been. She had watched for their immediate safety, of course, but nothing more than that.

Their plates had been removed, but his wine remained. She got to the table just as an elf appeared to clear things away. Nenya took his goblet with a faint smile to the elf, and also managed to grab her own.

Hers hadn't been touched, while his was nearly drained. She shook her head at that odd habit of wood-elves and took a sip of her own wine, before taking a tiny sip of his. She spit it back out, analyzing the remains that tickled her palate—different from what had been in her goblet.

She dropped them both as she recognized the poison, and ran back to his room, an anxious group racing behind her. She burst in, startling Thranduil and Eirthriel. Ponstern had left the grieving family in peace. She stumbled to a stop. What of a cure?

Thranduil looked up, his eyes catching on hers. "You know what did this?"

Slowly she nodded. "Yes. The poison was drawn from the black spiders, when they seek to kill quickly instead of hanging their kills for a time." Most elves died before they could reach a healer, and those that didn't were beyond help, usually, the symptoms appearing merely as slow breath and sluggish heart beats that could only be recognized as something other than the final stages of fading if the cause was already known.

Thranduil turned white. "How quickly?"

"That depends on how much he ingested," she countered, moving to Legolas's side.

"You know how to cure it?" Eirthriel asked eagerly.

Nenya hesitated, looking down at the prince. "I may know something that might work," she hedged.

"Then try it! Try anything!" the princess demanded.

Nenya glanced up at Thranduil. He slowly nodded. "Anything."

She nodded slightly and took the dagger from Legolas's waist. She took his hands and cut each of his palms, before cutting her own. She pressed their palms together, feeling her limbs slowly grow heavy as the poison seeped through the contact into her, as her blood slipped into his veins as well. There had been a few squeaks of protest from Eirthriel at first, but now she looked at them objectively.

"What if it doesn't work?"

"Then he dies."

"And you?" she asked after a moment of hesitation.

"I will fall ill, but I doubt I shall die."

"Why not?"

"For the reason that may save his life," she bit out, concentrating on remaining calm, of not speeding the transfer. A little at a time she could handle. A lot would leave her too weak to continue. Only when she felt the lethargy leave her muscles completely, not returning for a few minutes more did she release his hands. Eirthriel bound their palms without comment.

Then they all waited.


	22. Pleasant dreams

_So, little prince. The poison should have sunk deeply within you by now, your breath coming slower and slower within your throat, your blood not moving through your veins with enough force to sustain life._

_No smirking now,_ the elf stilled the smile forming around the thin lips carefully, despite the exuberant joy racing through the dark-haired elf's very being, flashing happily in eyes that held no light.

_What is death like? Your mother tasted it before you, oddly enough, considering the situations you've put yourself in. But no longer. You, weakling prince, are hereby declared dead. Pleasant dreams… for me._


	23. Woe to the one

Well, thanks to Tsalagiwesa for doing all that reviewing. You'll have to wait with the others for most questions, though. Except one: Yes, I know Nea. We go to school together, and have been friends for ages--and believe me, I know she's the better writer.

escape5: At this point I'm not planning on writing anything else. If it weren't for Nea, I wouldn't have gotten this far.

* * *

There were black spiders all around him, each one biting him, spreading their poison deeper and deeper into his body. His blood carried the weakness, the draining death, through his limbs, rendering him helpless. He fell to the ground, able only to listen to the hideous hisses, to see those creatures of darkness. Then someone moved forward, someone with dark hair and black eyes. The hatred in them burned ever brighter as the elf came closer. Just as his vision was about to fade, he felt a bit of life return to his legs, and forced them to move, stumbling away from the clearing, bursting through the webs to the light—

Legolas bolted upright, bathed in sweat. He brought his hands to his head. "Another damned nightmare," he grumbled, before becoming aware of a slight pain in his hands. He stared at the bandages over his palms in confusion.

"Not entirely," a dry voice murmured beside him.

He turned to see his father sitting in the chair behind his bed. "Father?" A slight movement from his other side caught his attention. "Eirthriel?" Beyond them he saw Miranol and Oleydya slumped together against the wall where the chair his father was using usually sat, Dareklien and Ertelen on the other side of the bookcase. "What's going on?"

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Thranduil muttered softly. "Do you remember anything?"

Legolas frowned slightly. He recalled Nenya teasing him about his weight, but that only through a thick haze. "Nenya?" he asked softly. Thranduil motioned towards Legolas's feet. Nenya was there, curled up on her side, her hands extended slightly before her, crossed at the wrists, both bandaged as his were. He looked back at his hands. "What happened?"

"You were poisoned. She drew it out."

"How?"

"I am not entirely sure how you were poisoned, nor entirely how she drew it out and survived. She is alive, though weary. Ponstern doesn't know what to make of this." Thranduil's attempt at humor fell flat.

Legolas tugged the bandages loose, pulling them off with his teeth. Dried blood covered his palms, along with a raw cut down the middle of each. For the first time in centuries he let his curiosity overwhelm his better manners, nudging Nenya with his foot. "Wake up."

"No," she muttered, tucking her nose under one of her palms.

He smiled at her petulant response, but nudged her again.

"Go 'way."

He chuckled softly. "Wake up, Nya."

Her eyes snapped open and her head reared back. "What did you call me?" she asked, voice cold.

He blinked and frowned. "What?"

"Did you just call me Nya?"

He blinked again, but realized he had. "I guess so. So what?" He held up his hands. "What happened?"

"Your wine was laced with spider venom. It had to be neutralized."

"And yours?" he asked, tilting his head at her hands.

She looked down at her bandages and shrugged slightly. "It had to be neutralized."

"And your blood was the way to go?"

"The only way," she agreed faintly. "You are alive. Does the method matter?"

"I suppose not," he conceded after a minute. "Will you ever explain?"

"If I must, someday I shall."

"Never freely?"

She stiffened slightly and turned her head aside.

Thranduil shook his head. "I think this foolishness needs to come to an end soon, Nenya."

"I keep your secrets, Thranduil. You shall keep mine." After hissing those words, which Thranduil received as a slap to the face, she slid off of Legolas's bed and made her way to the room she had been given earlier.

Legolas looked after her for a moment, and then tilted his head towards his father while Eirthriel worked on re-bandaging his hands. "Secrets, Father? You keep secrets from your own family but send them in letters to strangers?"

"I did not send them in letters, Legolas," Thranduil admonished. "And I did not tell her. That was her mother's doing, I've no doubt."

"Why would she do that? Why would anyone spread the King's secrets?"

"She would have told Nenya the truth so Nenya would know what to do and say—and what not to say—should the stone ever be sent to her."

Legolas winced at the sudden pain in his hands and looked back at what Eirthriel was doing. She glanced up, silently telling him not to argue with their father as she tugged the bandage a bit tighter once more. Slowly he shook his head, even as pain entered his hands once more when she tried to argue. "I think we have a right to know."

Thranduil sighed. "Yes, you do. But not now. If you were told now it could jeopardize everything."

"Everything?"

"Our kingdom, our home, our family… perhaps even our lives," he added after a moment's pause, his eyes troubled as he regarded Legolas's palms. "No one saw it happen. Or no one will say they saw it happen."

"Or no one realizes what it is they saw," Legolas murmured softly. "Now would you let me up so I can find Nenya?"

Thranduil frowned. "That which keeps you apart has been strengthened, Legolas. Your blood runs truly together now."

Legolas shook his head slightly. "In a while her blood will be replaced with my own. As long as I have it, though, I intend to use it." Since waking he had been painfully aware of every sight, sound and smell around him, and his other sense, the one that knew when he was being watched and how far the watchers were, had also grown stronger. It would be easier to find her. He hoped.

After a few more minutes of arguing with his family he was allowed to get up, and did his best not to shake on his feet too badly as he left his room. Once outside he leaned against the wall, willing the strength back into his legs. He could recall, now, the weakness that invaded his body. It was mostly gone, but he would have to go a bit slower than usual for a while.

As long as he had to remain still anyway, he set his mind to thinking about Nenya. Slowly his strength returned, and he had an idea which way to go. He followed it without being sure if it was right, but soon he came to a hallway where he could hear voices just around the corner. He leaned back against the wall to rest, eavesdropping partially against his will.

"I assume you have come from my brother's room."

"Yes, I have," Nenya replied, her voice devoid of anything resembling emotion.

"I must say I expected better from a spider specialist… like the elder prince instead?"

Legolas's spine stiffened, but Nenya's caustic reply bit back before he could even try to push away from the wall to defend her.

"And that would be better? To be so close to one who pretends he is unaware one of his family looked death in the eye?"

"Looked?" Teraien's voice was the perfect mix of surprise and concern. "When did this happen?"

"I would wager you know well enough. The entire kingdom no doubt knows."

"Ah, but I left the party early. Nearly immediately after our dance, in fact. I have not had the time to listen to idle gossip."

"It is hardly idle when it concerns one's own family."

"But that is when it is most often found to be false, especially considering who my family is. But as I said, I didn't know. When did he die?"

"He hasn't. And he won't."

"No? Did Ponstern know the cure?"

"Interesting choice of words, Teraien. Considering I never said what he was afflicted by. Nor who was afflicted."

Teraien was nonplussed. "It is simple reasoning, milady. Had it been a weapon attack the palace would have been searched. I would have been notified. Guards would line the halls. As nothing of the sort has happened, poison seems the logical response. Had it been my Father, I would have been roused. Legolas is the obvious choice of my siblings to need a healer, considering how he spends his time."

"Perhaps," she allowed softly. "But you can put aside your worry. He is well."

"Really? A remarkable recover, if you were not exaggerating when you said he was on the brink of death."

Legolas pushed himself upright and took a few steps, stopping at Nenya's shoulder. "What can I say? Between having good healers and a will to live, a little poison can't keep me down for long."

Teraien's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Well, this is good news. I shall have to spread the word."

"Undoubtedly Father has already done so. You need not trouble yourself, brother."

Teraien narrowed his eyes slightly, but after a flickering glance to Nenya, he bowed his head slightly and turned away, walking towards the kitchens.

Nenya turned and caught Legolas without a word, backing him around the corner and against the wall so he could rest away from the eyes of passing elves. "You shouldn't be up already," she murmured softly, sinking to the floor with him.

"I wanted to find you."

"Why?"

"They won't tell me anything. That irritates me."

She lifted a brow as her eyes began sparkling again. "So you came to me?"

"I'm used to you not telling me anything."

She chuckled softly and shifted so she was sitting more comfortably. "What would you wish to know?"

"What happened."

She shook her head. "We've been through this."

"How you were able to survive, then? Can you tell me that much at least?"

She frowned slightly and looked down at her hands, absently running her thumb over her bandaged palm. "I have come into contact with the poison and cure often enough in my life it runs through me, in my blood. Please ask no more."

After searching her dimming eyes for a moment, he nodded slightly. "Come here."

"What?" she looked at him in confusion.

He smiled faintly and carefully tugged her closer. "Come here," he repeated, tucking her against him.

"Why are you—"

"I needed a hug, and you're the only one around. Thought maybe you needed one too."

"I don't _need_ anything from you."

"Of course not," he agreed softly, his tone soothing. "Just relax."

With a sigh she recalled the first time he had pulled her so close. Since then he had done it time and again, and though she still wasn't quite used to it, she wasn't so disused to it, either. Knowing he wouldn't willingly release her until she did relax she dropped her head to his shoulder and sent her mind searching for any clue that would solidify something of the incident last night.

Legolas smiled slightly as he leaned his head back against the wall, sighing softly as Nenya relaxed farther. She was probably thinking about anything other than him, but he didn't care. She needed to trust anyone, and this was a fair step forward.

His smile faded as he thought about what she had said. How could she have come into contact with spiders often enough that her blood held the cure to their poison? There was no known cure for the spider poison meant to kill the victim, and the only cure for the other poison was time. So how could she have survived if the poison was released into her system? It didn't make sense.

"You aren't relaxed," she chided without moving.

He was about to respond when she pulled away, turning to face him once more. A moment after she did so he could hear someone approaching. He looked up to see his father shaking his head.

"You should have remained in bed."

"Maybe," he murmured. "But then it would have taken longer for me to recover." He eased himself upright, aware how slow he must seem to them, but also quite aware he was moving faster than he had been at first.

Thranduil started to disagreed, but Nenya cut in. "True. Now that you've crossed the line of uncertainty, movement is the only thing that shall help. Perhaps Eirthriel would be willing to prod you along?"

Eirthriel blinked but moved to his side as if to offer support. "Of course."

Legolas groaned and shook his head. "A child of twenty again! Woe to the one who put me in this state!"

Thranduil's eyes darkened, his voice grim. "Indeed."


	24. Escape

Legolas looked down at his palm, at the line cut fresh there. As if sensing his study, Nenya turned back and paused, allowing him to catch up. Her eyes caught his for a moment, but they said nothing, just turned together to continue their journey.

He still couldn't believe it. He'd been poisoned three times while at home, and each time Nenya had had to save his life. The most recent time she had spared him the embarrassment of collapsing somewhere. She had sipped his wine as if absently, spit it back into the goblet, and then dragged him into a different room just as the chills began to seep through his limbs. She had caught it early enough, with a small enough amount in his system that only one of their palms had to be reopened to clear his blood of the poison.

Her eyes had been a starless night as she looked at their palms that third time. She clenched her other hand into a fist and shook her head. "We cannot continue this," she murmured, slamming her fist against the table beside them, making the water pitcher jump and rattle in its basin.

He had agreed wholeheartedly, tired of seeing his father, sister, and friends concerned about him. Tired of feeling like a child just learning to stand, to walk. She had sent the group to wait for them, and the next evening they left without word to anyone. Not even his father.

That had caused him a twinge of uneasiness, but Thranduil had placed control of him in her hands, and so he couldn't very well complain when she practiced that control. Especially considering the circumstances.

Now they were walking back to her flets, back to the wolves, back to the place he didn't have to wonder if his food or wine would make him ill. Back to another place where the person over him refused to speak on secrets, even when they could well be entwined with his life.

He sighed softly and shook his head.

"What troubles you?"

He snorted softly. "Shall I construct a list? How about I have a feeling the secrets you and my father insist on keeping are tied up with this entire business—the spider attacks, the reason you shy away from elves, the attempts on my life… I don't know whether to laugh or cry, so I go dumbly along with whatever you or my father propose."

She lowered her eyes and sighed. "You are correct. Unfortunately, you are probably correct on all counts. There is no proof, yet, and without it we cannot speak on it. If we were wrong, it would be worse than if we are right."

"We?"

She smiled ever so slightly. "Very well. I. If I am correct. But since my actions or inactions are tied up with the kingdom, I think it best I keep Thranduil in mind."

"You know Gandalf, don't you? Forever speaking in riddles, not quite stating anything simply enough it can be understood plainly."

"I do not know him, save from stories you have told me at night. To speak plainly is to be entirely certain of what you speak. I am not. Therefore… riddles. Deviations from the path of utter truth, or at least, the truth as I see it."

"Yet you must know things you could tell me. Maybe someone you suspect, or something you suspect. Anything at all?" He sighed softly when she didn't respond. "Need I worry about my family being poisoned?"

She was silent for a long moment, but he could tell it was in consideration, not as a reply. He was about to think his heart was going to climb out of his chest when she spoke softly, frowning. "I think they are safe. At least for now. Should the one in question succeed in destroying you, then they may be in grave danger. But I am with you, and with my blood in your veins so are all those you believe would as gladly kill you as look at you."

"What?" he frowned at that.

They will recognize that you carry some of me within you, and will accept you as if you were me. Your welfare will become as important to them as their own is."

"But this will wear off."

She shook her head slightly. "Not entirely. Never entirely. Subtle changes may appear."

"Changes?"

"Such as being able to keep up with me without trying?" she suggested.

He glanced down, saw he _was_ keeping up with her, and that she wasn't going slower than usual so he could. "Huh."

She smiled slightly and continued on.

"So, does this mean I have resistance to the poison now?"

"That is more unlikely. I said subtle changes, not monumental ones." She chuckled at his disgruntled expression. "You will likely be slightly more resistant, yes. Very slightly."

"You're a fountain of good news today."

"As any other," she agreed softly.

He smiled slightly and looked around. "The mountains?"

"A few more minutes."


	25. Our name

_So the attempts all failed._

The starless eyes flashed in the darkness.

_Now waiting is the only option left. Again._

_Or maybe not. With the spider specialist gone again, the time is ripe for a few attacks, since there is now a steady flow of messages between the group and the King. Let us now draw the dear prince back to the palace, back into the open. Back into danger. Back to see death, to know his name. Our name._

_Back to face his end like the weakling he is._

A slow smile twisted the thin lips grotesquely.

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Thanks to those who reviewed! It's nice to hear that someone is reading. 


	26. Legolass

Nenya and Oleydya were lying in the treetops when the males discovered their work. It had taken them all night, and they were going to enjoy the disgust below them as long as they could.

Nenya smiled as Legolas's sharp yelp pierced the cool morning, her eyes closed to savor the sunlight. Dareklien was cursing inventively. Probably not the best way for her to learn new words, but it was still interesting. Oleydya was giggling softly, clamping her hands over her mouth so the enraged males below wouldn't hear her.

"NYA!!" Legolas's bellow disturbed a few birds flittering about the treetops.

"LEYDA!!!" Miranol's yelp made the rest fly away.

"WHERE ARE YOU TWO?!?!?!?!"

Oleydya laughed aloud, and at once they heard four elves scramble towards them. The she-elves hesitated between fleeing and seeing the results of their handiwork. They both stayed just long enough to see Dareklien and Ertelen emerge from the leaves.

If they had stayed any longer, they might have laughed themselves out of the trees, sparing the males the task of catching them.

They ran as the males tried to follow… but they were used neither to the dresses or the thin braids that hung down into their eyes.

Nenya nearly choked on her laughter as she raced through the trees, recalling the way they had looked as they slept. She heard a squeal and peals of laughter, indicating Oleydya had been caught. She wasn't going to be caught that easily.

She dropped down a few feet, running along a path she didn't take often, ducking down from a branch that hung in the way. Her not using it much meant Legolas didn't know it at all, since he usually let her lead when he insisted on walking with her through the trees. Still, he and Ertelen were behind her.

A sudden curse told her Ertelen hadn't ducked in time, leaving only Legolas on her tail. She laughed softly and ran back into the very tops of the trees, giving them more light but thinner and more flexible branches to work with.

"Nenya," he called softly, only to tell her he was far closer than she would have guessed. Turning slightly to see, she miscalculated a step and started to fall. Legolas ran on by, catching her as he went. "Got you!" He made the declaration only once they were steadily paused on the thin branch.

She looked up at him and burst out laughing. She picked up a few of the thin braids that hung into his eyes and tugged them. "Why, Legolas! A she-elf in disguise all this time?"

He growled softly and glared down at her, his eyes at once dark in anger but sparkling with laughter. "Why, Nenya. Picking up bad habits?"

She laughed harder, before primly straightening the top of the gown he was wearing. "You make a hideous she-elf. Did Eirthriel never tell you that?"

"Eirthriel?"

"Well, who else would allow you to use their gowns for such a purpose?" Nenya softly asked, her eyes wide. "I mean, it would have to be someone you trust, because you wouldn't want your little fetish to get out… What would Thranduil say?"

He shook his head and glared harder. "Are you challenging my masculinity?"

"I would never challenge any male… who was wearing a gown and had a few hundred braids in his hair. Such unstable people are likely to do something unexpected."

His eyes narrowed. "Unstable, huh?" he asked, looking her over, his eyes raking every inch of her, lingering on her normal tunic and leggings. "I'll show you unexpected." With no more warning than that, his mouth came down on hers, roughly stopping her laughter.

Nenya would have lost her footing if she had it to begin with. It took her a moment, but she succeeded in regaining it and in shoving him away. Little sparks were racing through her body, gathering where sparks were not allowed to gather. Telling herself it was anger and outrage, she glared at him. "I told you it couldn't be crossed."

She watched as realization set in, wiping out the slightly pleased and stunned look in his eyes. He paled and lowered himself until he was sitting against a tree trunk. "Oh, stars," he muttered, bringing one hand to his face. "I'm sorry, Nenya. I don't know what came over me," he murmured after a moment, rubbing his hand over his cheek and mouth in a weary gesture.

She sighed and knelt on the branch in front of him. She had to remember he didn't know why what he had done was unacceptable. As far as he knew, it was just that she didn't want any elf in such a way. And since he had succeeded in convincing her to let him in as a friend… She sighed again and shook her head. "You don't know the reason, and I cannot tell you. Think of me as another sister, and you won't go wrong."

He winced. "A sister?" He made a face. "Stars."

She smiled slightly and took a moment to decide how to let him off the hook. She laughed softly. "So. We have to call you Legolass now?"

He paused for a moment, and then chuckled instead of chasing after her. She had been prepared for either, which was probably what stopped him. She didn't wear leggings instead of dresses because they needed less material, after all. "How did you two manage this?" he asked, looking down at his gown and at his hair. "It must have taken hours."

"All night," she agreed softly.

"I noticed Miranol's hair wasn't as… fancy."

"Oleydya braided his. It was almost morning by then, so she had to hurry."

"While you were doing what?" he asked suspiciously.

She laughed and tugged one of the tiny braids again. "You do look ridiculous, Legolas."


	27. Sacrifice

When Miranol and Oleydya suddenly reappeared after a morning of invisibility, Legolas frowned slightly. After all, usually Nenya was with them when they went to wherever the three went. It was another secret he had to deal with, and one of the least annoying. Most of the time. Of course, that was when he thought Nenya was with them. Now that it appeared she wasn't, he found curiosity nipping at his heels until he began to look for her.

He wasn't quite prepared for what he found.

Nenya was stretched out on a rock, her arms draping limply over her head and partially off the large boulder, her legs resting against the sloping stone. She looked as if she had been knocked unconscious and draped out in the little bit of sun that managed to filter through to this place because of the fire-cleared lack of trees. The burnt trees had been reabsorbed by the land years ago, only the space left to indicate there had ever been a human-induced disaster here.

The slightest movement of her curled fingers indicated her watchfulness. She was awake, and aware of him. He smiled slightly, wondering for a while when she'd gotten this perfectly relaxed around him. "You look like a sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?"

"Mm-hmm," he agreed, walking slowly closer. "I heard or read somewhere once that humans used to sacrifice maidens to dragons in the hopes the dragon wouldn't come out of his cave and destroy the town."

"And in the process got him used to the taste of human flesh, instilling a hunger for it in him. Very intelligent creatures, humans, aren't they?" She snorted slightly and opened her eyes.

He smiled slightly and folded one of her arms against her middle so he could sit on the rock beside her. "Well, they hardly have the years we have to gain wisdom."

"I said nothing of wisdom, Legolas. Merely intelligence."

"But is it wisdom or intelligence that causes us to think their actions foolish?"

"Common sense," she muttered, shifting so her arms were under her head. She studied him silently for a while, and then lifted a brow.

He shrugged a shoulder and went back to watching the leaves as they moved with the slightest breeze, their reflection caught in her eyes. "I just wondered where you were," he murmured softly.

"Well, now you know," she retorted, closing her eyes.

"Am I bothering you?" he asked, amused.

"Hmm," she murmured softly.

"Are you going to wake up in time for practice, or shall I come to wake you?"

"You're horribly obsessed with that piece of wood, Legolas."

"That piece of wood has often saved my life," he countered, trying to sound affronted by her description of his bow.

"No, your instincts and speed save your life. Not that bit of wood and string."

He gave up and chuckled. "Just because you don't have a love for the art, you could leave me be."

"I could. Where's the fun in that?" She cracked open one eye and then smiled faintly, closing her eyes firmly against the sun and the conversation.

With a shake of his head he got up, stopping to pick a leaf out of her hair. He considered saying something, but she had effectively dismissed him, and, as odd as it seemed coming from a prince, he didn't want to go against her decree.

* * *

Hey, guys, here's how it works: Ask a question, and I'll respond at the top of the next chapter. Review, and you get a new chapter. Simple, right?

I mean that--every time I check my e-mail and there's a review, I'll post the next chapter... but don't get too annoyed. I'm not as obsessive about checking my e-mail four times a day like Nea is.


	28. Sister

Guess you guys like the new chapter quickly idea, huh? And this is where it starts getting magical and sci-fi-ish... but it's fiction, and who knows everything about elves, anyway? And thanks to Nea--she helped with some of the imagry when I was stuck.

K'lara 7: Who?

Elainor: Close, but keep guessing.

Thanks, all!

* * *

The feeling of things approaching grew stronger. Legolas looked to the north even as Nenya called to Argile, who had gone to investigate. When no response came for a long moment, she looked to the ground, dropping down to where some wolves usually congregated. They weren't there.

Legolas waited as the others slowly realized something was wrong, mostly by watching Nenya as she scanned the forest for her friends. Zetea sped back suddenly, and with a single call Nenya was off and running, speeding through the trees too quickly for the others to keep up.

They did their best, but the wolves and falcons were utterly silent. All they could do was spread out and search for her, not even daring to call her name since they didn't know what had happened. Their search soon led them to trees decorated with spider threads.

Feeling dread well up within him, Legolas gripped his dagger, wishing he hadn't falling into such a comfortable routine that he no longer bothered to carry his bow with him. Sensing Nenya and other creatures, he crept more slowly, careful to muffle every sound he could have made. He brushed back the leaves as quietly as he could, but audibly sucked in his breath at what he saw.

Spiders were everywhere. Large spiders, and Nenya was in the middle of them. She was sitting still, as if drugged, and a spider crouched over her leg, the mandibles fastened into her flesh. Blood trickled down and splashed off her exposed skin, dropping to the branch she sat upon before trickling around the dark bark to drop, one silent drop at a time, to the ground far below.

His indrawn breath had alerted them, and the spiders looked up with their big black eyes as Nenya turned her head. He started towards her, his dagger ready, thinking only of pulling her away.

"Stop him," she hissed.

The spiders swarmed around him, their thick strings securing him to the trunk of one of the trees. He struggled against them, but more and more came until he was unable to move, his dagger falling useless from his fingers. He waited for them to bite him, to sink their poison into his flesh and finish whatever someone had started earlier, but the bites didn't come.

When they were satisfied he couldn't move they moved away from him, returning to Nenya and the spider that was still drinking her blood. As he watched the spider finished, and Nenya wrapped a bit of cloth about the wound, before drawing a small dagger, sticking it precisely into the place just behind the head in the bulbous belly. The dark blood flowed into her palm, pooling there. He watched in horrified fascination as she consumed every drop she had released before binding the spider's wound as she had her own.

"What of him, sister?" one of them hissed.

"Leave him to me, little sister," Nenya murmured back, her voice little more than a hiss.

In flashes he saw all the times she had used that voice, and shuddered as he awaited whatever ill fate awaited him at this Nenya's hands. The spiders skittered off, and Nenya slowly stood up, limped to his side, and crawled up to a branch that grew away right about where he'd been strung up. She turned and faced him.

"Well, I suppose you have no choice but to listen."

He looked into her black eyes, and wondered why he hadn't considered black an odd eye color for an elf before. "Who are you, Nenya?"

"I am the daughter of Garenla."

"And who is Garenla?"

"You will have heard of her only as the spider witch. We prefer the term spider sisters, but undoubtedly you will not wish to understand." Her eyes were bleak, most of the sparkle gone.

Still, he found that though confused, he didn't fear her. Stupid or not, he didn't think she would harm him. "As you said, I now have no choice but to listen. Shall you tell me?"

She sighed softly and rested her head on her hand. "I haven't much of a choice, either, have I?" She shifted and turned so she was no longer looking at him, her eyes focusing on something in the path. "My mother's story is more or less accurately told in the spider witch story, up to a point. After the blood bond she was more able and willing to climb trees than her kin, her senses improved, especially that of night vision. She never became a spider—that's ridiculous. She never looked like a spider, either."

"And she passed those changes onto you?"

"The changes came from the blood. The relationships with the spiders had to be built over years. I have known and bonded with several generations."

"You bonded with one today?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"She was dying. Elven blood is strong, strong enough to help her survive."

"You help spiders live? When we've been sent to destroy them?"

"Not those spiders, Legolas. Or were you so startled your eyes failed you?"

Legolas frowned and thought back. Every last spider he had seen was white. "I guess that explains why you always said only to kill black spiders."

"Yes," she agreed softly. "The spiders I call sister or brother are not the black ones. Those you just saw have had generations of bonds with elves—my mother and myself. They are changed, and they fight their dark former kin."

"Do they." He was understandably dubious and that score, and his words came out sarcastically unbelieving.

"Yes. It is why Thranduil sent for me. I know spiders, and my spiders and wolves fight with me when I fight the black spiders."

He closed his eyes and tried to think. "Good spiders?" he asked, still rather incredulous.

"Aye," she agreed, closing her eyes wearily. "I know it must be hard to believe, but if they were evil, they would have killed you instead of trapping you." She touched the symbol of his house, the emblem sewn on the shoulder of his tunic. "Your father trusted and believed in her. Do you choose to be as your father to the daughter in that?"

"Was it white or black spider poison in my blood?"

"They cannot be distinguished, but my spiders would give their venom to none, and none have recently enough been killed."

He sighed softly and shook his head. "What a day. Would you release me, please?"

She heard some of the others coming closer, doubling back since they were without sign of her, or of him. "It depends. Shall your first act as a free elf be my destruction?"

He shook his head again. "No. Why would it? So you've spider blood in your veins. That's okay."

"Need some time to think, huh?" she asked dryly, cutting him loose.

"That's an understatement." He tried to shake off the sticky strands but had little luck. "Ugh. I suppose you know some way to get these off?"

"You probably won't like it."

"I just want them off."

"Come with me," she murmured, leading him away from the calls. She stopped after a few minutes, and made a soft clicking noise with her tongue. The white spiders came to her, some of the young ones crawling up to rest on her shoulder. "Would you remove the strands, please?"

"Very well, little sister," two hissed together, coming to him.

He forced himself to stand still as they removed the strands. "Thanks," he managed when they were done. He held his arms out, looking at the moist trails that covered the majority of his body. "Spider spit. Great."

Nenya laughed softly. "I told you," she chided softly. "You can always…" her voice trailed off. She swayed slightly, began to fall.

Before he could move two spiders jumped off the branches, catching her quickly. They brought her back up as Argile cried above them. "Elf takes spider sister to rest," they hissed. "Too much blood needed for her sister."

He nodded and took Nenya from them, checking her pulse once she was safely in his arms. He sighed in relief when he found it, weak, but there. He stood and began walking back when the group came into sight.

"Legolas! Move!"

"No, Dareklien!" Legolas yelled, halting the arrow Dareklien was about to release. "They are friends of Nenya's."

"Friends? Then why is she unconscious?"

"Blood loss. They are her friends. Leave them be." By the time he had finished speaking, the spiders were gone once more, only a few threads remaining to prove they had ever been there.

He sighed and shifted Nenya, who moaned softly and tossed her head. She was slipping in and out of coherence by the time they returned to the flets, so he asked her where she wanted to go. She directed him through the two flets that were off limits, and to a third. A crude bed was against one wall, an unsteady table beside it, with an ink well and a store of paper. He settled her on the bed and glanced around, taking the chair by the table as he waited for her to stir.

His mind circled back again and again to the scene with the spiders. So she had spider blood in her veins. So did he, apparently… at least until his own blood overwhelmed it. It explained how the cure to the venom was in her blood, he supposed. Sort of. There was an old tale that the cure was the blood of a spider, but that had been tried without success too many times for it to be believed. Maybe it had to be living blood—not that taken from a dead spider and carted to the ailing patient who was usually leagues away.

Nenya stirred and blinked, shaking her head slightly as she began to get up. She winced and looked down at her bandaged leg, before her eyes jerked to his.

He waited for her to search his eyes for a long moment, and then he reached out and touched her cheek, kissing her forehead before rising to return to the male flet for rest. "Sleep well, my friend."


	29. When it rains, it pours

New chapter! So stop with the poking!

A Monkey's Harp: Yup, that's exactly why.

* * *

The three elves with Nenya froze at the odd sound that suddenly reached their ears.

"What's that??" Dareklien asked, tilting his head to the side.

"You must be joking. You don't know what it is?" Nenya blinked at him.

"It sounds like… wind. But wind doesn't usually get this far down into the trees."

She laughed softly and shook her head at them. "Haven't you ever been outside when it rains?"

"Sure. But it never rains very much, and certainly not enough to reach the ground. Why else would you have constructed an aerial garden?"

She sent him a glittering smile. "Hope you know how to swim, since we're on the wrong side of the river. Even if we were to run back, we'll probably get soaked, unless the wind changes."

Legolas shook his head and clapped Ertelen on the back. "Aren't you glad you joined us today?"

"Well, since Miranol and Oleydya always disappear about now, it seemed like a good idea at the time," he grumbled.

Nenya chuckled softly and looked up, grabbing a branch to pull herself up. "Well, it's up to you guys. Do you want to wait it out, or try and get back in time to put the roof up on the sleeping rooms?"

They all groaned. "Lead the way," Ertelen sighed.

She smiled and checked the sky for a moment longer, then nodded once. "Looks like I was a bit off. We might just make it."

"Will we have time to cover things?" Legolas frowned, thinking of her bookshelf, before reminding himself that flet had a permanent roof. "What about the ones that only have two sides and a roof?"

"I have sides that can be put up, but the storms usually come from the same direction, making it not worth the effort. Let's go." She landed in front of them, already heading off.

With a collective annoyed look, the males fastened their still loose weapons onto their backs and raced off after her. They reached the flets not long after she probably did, and found her in the flet Oleydya used, working quickly to unroll the leaves.

"How can we help?" Legolas asked, shoving his sleeves back to his elbows.

"Grab an end and haul it up," she muttered, giving him one of those looks she had perfected which made any receiver feel rather like an idiot.

With a sigh he took the other end and held it as she leaped up, catching the overhead branches to haul herself up. Dareklien handed up the end she had supported until dumping it on his shoulders, and she unfurled it quickly, before shimmying down a side branch, reaching for ropes the guys had never noticed. She quickly tied the roof in place, her fingers flying through the overlapping leaves.

"How old are these things?" Legolas asked, sneezing from a shower of dust that had covered him when she unfurled it over them.

"Later," she snapped, racing down to the large flet they used. "Come on! I can't get this thing into place in time alone!"

"Did she just admit she needed our help for something?" Ertelen asked with a slight smile, even as they ran down to help. After all, it was where they were planning on sleeping in a short while.

"Think about it later," Legolas muttered, trying to figure out where he would be of the most help. Finally he grabbed at a lower branch and pulled himself into the crisscrossing branches that would work as supports for the roof, helping her pull the very large, thick, and—he found while sneezing—dusty roll of leaves up where they could unroll it.

"Go on down and help them tie it in place," Nenya called over the increasing rushing of the approaching rain and coming winds. "You don't know the roof well enough to stay up here when the supports aren't visible,"

He blinked and realized the truth of that statement, dropping down. He picked up the bits of heath-line she directed them to as she ran lightly over the roof, helping fasten them.

"What else do we need to get done?" he asked, holding a handful of hair out of his face as the wind threw it around. He grabbed a bit of leather chord from his hunting gear and tied his hair back, seeing the others had already done so.

"That's all that concerns you. If you would enjoy watching the storm, there are several good places in the tops."

Her voice was already receding rapidly. "Right," he grumbled, clawing at the branches until he was behind her. He shook his head and hefted the roll of leaves up to her as she was about to hang upside-down to reach for it. "You could have asked for help, you know," he muttered, handing her the ties.

"Why would I do that? I've done this hundreds of time on my own."

"Probably with a bit more time," he murmured, looking at the branches around them. "Now where?"

She looked at him for a moment, then shook her head and sighed, tilting her head towards another flet.

"And now?" he asked when they had covered that one.

"The others are fine," she murmured.

"So, now what?"

She smiled slightly. "Now, we watch."

"Watch?"

"Have you ever just sat and watched a storm?" She tilted her head at him, then shook her head when he paused to consider. "I doubt it. It's something you wouldn't quickly forget." Without looking back she took one of the branches up to a place where she could watch the wind.

"It looks like a hand, stroking the trees," he murmured behind her.

"Yes," she agreed quietly. "And just behind the first touch—the rain."

He was silent for a moment. "Wow. We got back just in time," he murmured as the torrential rains came racing along the trees until it was around them. A bit annoyed, he held his arms out and watched the water pour from his limbs. "And then didn't put the covered flets to use," he grumbled, absently running a hand through his hair, unintentionally pulling the leather cord from his soaked locks.

"We shall use them later. You can dry easily enough, but how often can you see this in the mountain?"

"Never. You know that."

"Mm-hmm," she agreed softly.

Legolas was about to say something else, but he paused with his mouth open, and found himself just watching her. For her talk about watching the storm, he'd expected she would at least have her eyes open. Instead her eyes were closed, her lashes matted together in soft spikes, her head tilted back, black hair streaming freely behind her. A faint smile was on her lips, and he found himself wondering… "What do you see?"

Without opening her eyes her smile widened. "I see the rain has nearly reached the pond, that it has begun touching the ground, that the funnels that hold the water for future use are beginning to fill—"

"Beginning? But they're usually nearly full."

"I knew it would rain soon, so I released most of the water this morning."

"What if it hadn't rained?"

"You wouldn't have noticed for a day or two, and if need be, we could fetch water from the river or the pond." She opened her eyes and tilted her head at the rain-washed world. "It doesn't matter, since it's rained. They should be full in a matter of moments."

"Mmm," he agreed. "How long will it last?"

She shrugged. "As long as there is water to be released," she murmured.

Lifting a brow, he tried again. "How long do you _think_ it will last, based on past experience?"

"Until nightfall it will probably be heavy, then it will taper off to a light drizzle by dawn."

"Will the leaves keep the water out?"

"They should," she agreed softly.

"And how old are they?"

"Well, those I use more are newer, since the leaves need to be replaced from time to time. Those they assisted in putting up haven't been used in many years, so I may have to repair them in patches before they can be rolled up again."

Legolas lifted a brow but resisted comment, watching the rain instead as the wind continued to stroke the trees. He shoved some wet hair out of his eyes as another swell slapped him in the face, and sighed in disgust.

Nenya's soft chuckled echoed in his ear as she stood up behind him, her fingers easily securing his hair in a few small braids that she knotted together at the back of his head, using a small piece of twine that had come loose from a bit of rope to keep them in place. "Better?" she teased.

A muffled laugh came from below before he could answer.

It was followed quickly by a shriek.

Nenya frowned and raced down to a low branch, pausing so suddenly Legolas couldn't stop in time. She caught him before he fell out of the tree, covering his mouth with her hand as she hauled him up. "Shh," she hissed, before pulling him slightly higher in the tree as she stalked whatever or whoever was on the ground.

"Who—"

He was cut off as he saw who they were following. He was about to call out to them, but she put her hand over his mouth again.

"Shh," she insisted, before tilting her head up, ordering him to leave.

Once they were in the flets again, he leaned over and looked down. "You're encouraging them," he frowned.

"And why not?" she murmured with a smile.

"So, you know what they've been doing all these mornings when we haven't been invited along?"

"Of course," she agreed. "Nothing to get upset about," she soothed.

Legolas looked down at the muddy elves. Oleydya's dress was dark brown with mud, both her and Miranol's hair matching it, along with their skin where the rain hadn't washed the mud away. "Are you sure?"

"They are old enough, are they not?"

"Yes, but…"

"But? But what? She recently lost her parents? He hasn't struck out on his own in his chosen field? He shall, and she is overcoming her grief. They build confidence in each other."

He frowned. "So… he's why you chose her?"

"Not really. I'm a 'spider specialist', not a matchmaker. I thought a she-elf would be useful—since she would undoubtedly know more about the ins and outs of dealing with male elves than I do. Oleydya wanted to help in any way she could. That she and Miranol are getting along quite nicely… who am I to stand in their way?"

"Who indeed?" he asked, looking down as more laughter came from the couple who were having trouble climbing up, so wet and muddy were they. "Still, won't this make them both more vulnerable, when we go hunting?"

She looked at him over her shoulder, and slowly shook her head with a sad look. "Why do you fight, prince?"

"What?"

"Do you fight because it is your duty?"

"I have no such duty," he dismissed it, knowing he could have chosen as Teraien had to stay out of the guard.

"They why?"

"Because I want to know those I care about are…" he trailed off and thought about it for a moment. Slowly he tilted his head. "I see."

"Good," she murmured with a faint smile. "Then you see it is good for her, as well."

"Good for her? How? If this doesn't turn out well—"

"I was not speaking about their relationship," she murmured, flicking it away with a movement of her shoulder as she climbed back up to one of the places they could watch the storm. "But rather about the strength she has regained by coming here. She has a reason again, she has friends. You have all pulled together to deal with this, and her inclusion has given her a reason to carry on, even if we leave Miranol out of the running."

"I doubt he'd like being left out."

"I would be surprised if he didn't," she agreed. "But her independence has been her greatest achievement here."

"How can you be so sure? How do you know it isn't his friendship that has been the best thing for her?"

"Because she was better off even before we entered the wood the first time, Legolas. She had a reason once more—to keep others from knowing what she had known. The strength she found when defending her home left her when she thought she no longer had a home to defend. Coming here, gaining friends and respect… changed that."

"So now she's a great warrior?" he murmured tartly.

"No," she shook her head. "But she is no longer in danger."

He stared at her for a long moment. "I thought you said you didn't know much about the ways of elves?"

"I know too much about some sides of elven life," she whispered sadly, her eyes darkening as the stars began to fade. She started to turn away, but he caught her. She looked down at his hand in annoyance. "Legolas—"

"What really happened to her?" he insisted, tightening his grip.

"I don't know what you're talking—"

He shook her lightly. "Your mother, Nenya. Where is she?"

"I don't know!" She tried to rip her hand loose.

"Yes you do, Nya. You know where she is… or isn't. She isn't in the Undying Lands, is she?"

Nenya bit her lip hard, a bit of blood trickling from her lip, which trembled for an instant. Then she kicked her leg out, swiping him off his feet before making good her escape as Legolas stared up at the dusty roof with a sigh before hauling himself up as a few rotting leaves gave way and let the rain into the flet, soaking him all over again.


	30. Messages

Okay! Obviously, I just check my e-mail... : ) Thanks everyone! I got more reviews for the last chapter than any other! But, only one with a ton of questions...

astalder27: Um... most questions I'm not answering because that would ruin the suspense. I will say, however, that Nenya does avoid the elves because of the spider blood.

* * *

Dareklien sighed as he shook his hand, trying to dislodge the sticky spider threat that clung to his fingers. He finally scraped it against a tree as Ertelen managed to effectively free himself unassisted.

Legolas shook his head at them and helped them both finish getting completely loose. Miranol and Oleydya were released next. They all looked at him suspiciously.

"What?"

"How come you're almost never caught?"

"I'm just better than all of you." With a laugh he dodged the spider string they three at him. "They probably feel sorry for me," he admitted, recalling how horribly stuck he had been when Nenya first explained her blood bond with the spiders. A few weeks later he had asked about the wolves, and she had admitted that she was bound to them as well. She still wouldn't say what held them apart, though, saying merely that it wasn't her secret to tell.

"Where is she?" Oleydya asked, looking around after pulling the piece of cloth from her head. Spider thread was nearly impossible to get out of hair, as Nenya had warned them and they had discovered. Spider saliva was, in fact, the only way to remove it. The stickiness washed out of clothing eventually, wore off the skin, but it combined with hair in such a way it wouldn't come out unless you had a friendly spider willing to spit on you, and unless the spit came soon enough after getting sticky. Dareklien's hair was a bit shorter than it used to be…

"Nya!" Legolas called.

Soft laughter came from above them, echoing around the trees in such a way they couldn't pinpoint her. "I see they bested you again."

"They've had a lot more experience with elves than we have with spiders," he countered.

"True," she agreed from wherever she was.

"Nya? Can I come up?" he asked, seeing Zetea land outside the flet she slept in.

Silence was all heard for a moment. "Very well."

He climbed up quickly, though he had to search for the branch to leave the flets and get to hers. He stepped into the empty flet. "Nya?"

"Come on up," she murmured softly.

He glanced up to see her sitting on some of the branches that would serve as support for the roof if she were to put it up. He found a way up and settled carefully beside her. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for Argile," she answered absently.

"What's been happening?"

"Four spider attacks since you escaped the palace. Only one reached the elves."

He pulled her to his side, kissing her temple as she leaned against him without comment. "I'm sorry," he murmured. A few of her white spiders had died fighting back the black spiders before they could reach the villages. He knew, because their bodies had been brought to Nenya.

She sighed softly and shook her head. "When will it end? When will he be satisfied?"

"He?"

She shrugged, glancing off in another direction.

"I don't buy that, Nenya."

She straightened slightly. "It doesn't matter what I suspect as long as I have no proof."

"You try to find some, I assume?"

"Of course. I have been trying since Thranduil called me to the palace." She frowned and slowly shook her head. "It is difficult to do it this way."

"What would you like to do?"

"Go hunting," she declared, her eyes hardening, going cold, distant. Slowly she shook her head again. "I cannot."

"Why not?"

"I cannot leave you here, vulnerable."

"Here is where you feel safest."

"Here is where I am safest, Legolas. You are not truly safe anywhere. While I and my friends are here, you are as close to safe as you shall be for a while, I'm afraid. But to learn the truth, I must either accept the passing of time, or leaving you alone."

"I am not exactly helpless."

She smiled faintly at his annoyed declaration, fixing her eyes back on the North. "Of course not," she soothed. He scowled. She chuckled. "You simply don't know what you could be up against."

"I would if you would tell me."

"I have not even told Thranduil what I suspect. I cannot tell the son before the father."

"Why not?" he asked crossly. "It's my life you seem to think is in danger."

"Seem to think? Was I dreaming when a certain prince was poisoned three separate times?"

He frowned at her. "No, and you know it. I'm just not sure I believe I'm as helpless as you seem to think."

"I don't think you're helpless," she mused, "just innocent."

"Watch how you speak to your elders, she-elf," he growled softly.

She laughed lightly. "You see all people in the light of possible friends. I've always seen it the other way. People have to earn my trust, while yours is freely given. You believe no one in a trusted position would hurt you, but how many have that position? How many could have poisoned you? How many would have reason to do so?" She smiled sadly, as if seeing a child cheerfully announcing his intent to join as war, being just old enough to do so. As if she could clearly see him walking naïvely to his death. "I bet you never consider I could have been the one to poison you."

He hesitated. "I may have, for an instant, when the spiders were binding me." He shook his head, trying to dislodge the dark memory. "You were not the Nenya I knew at the time. Your eyes were emotionless, cold, hard. You were confronted with the possible death of someone dear to you, where there was little you could do… but I saw only the coldness, and never dreamed the rest."

"But even in that instant, you dismissed the idea."

He inclined his head slightly in agreement. "Though I had some doubts about what I thought I knew about you."

"Naturally," she agreed. "But that's my point. You had been given no reason to trust me. Given the fact that I am considered a 'spider specialist' and that you were poisoned by spider venom, many would have looked to me as the culprit. You never thought about it at the time."

"Because you saved my life."

"And I just happened to be there in time, happened to figure it out, and happened to be there the other times as well?"

He frowned at her. "Are you trying to convince me you did poison me?"

She smiled slightly and shook her head. "I didn't. But I could have. You would never have guessed. Thranduil wouldn't have considered me in a thousand years. You're too trusting for any of royal blood."

"You're calling the King naïve, now?"

"No. Never him. He knows more about this whole business than you do, more of the intricate details than I ever shall. He knows that the debt I own him is an extension of my blood. Something I can no more cross than the bond you and I share."

"Which is…"

"Don't hold your breath," she muttered, shaking her head with a smile. She ran a hand through her hair, readjusting the relatively short strands.

Legolas sighed and leaned back on his elbows, watching the horizon. "Where has Argile gone?"

"To see your father, of course."

Legolas frowned, and then shook his head with a faint smile. "First day of spring." He shook his head. "What a year. Definitely one that shall stick out in my memory for the rest of my life."

"Only if things to come don't overshadow it," she countered absently. She shaded her eyes with one hand, smiling slowly. With a click of her tongue she roused Zetea, who sped off to greet her mate. When Argile landed Nenya took the letter with an affectionate rub to the falcon's head before she descended to her flet to read it. "Three elves died in the latest attack."

Legolas closed his eyes before dropping to her side. "You have to do something, Nenya. You're the only one with a clue what's going on, what to do. My father sent for you so you could do it."

She nodded slowly. "I know." She looked down at the letter for a long moment, leaving her flet for a moment before returning wearing a hooded cloak. "Come on. We must be quick about it."

"About what?"

"No time, elf. Follow me!" She called to Zetea, who called the wolves to them. Leaving the other four confused elves behind, Nenya and Legolas ran into the dark forest, two wolves running ahead, two behind.


	31. She you can trust

Alright, new chapter! And only eighteen pages to go...

Juvenile delinquent: As long as I get a review or two per chapter, I remember that I'm supposed to be updating--if I get something in my e-mail, I remember this story. Nea and I spent a weekened a while ago brainstorming and then polishing this sucker, so I just have to remember to get it posted. Unlike her, this isn't where I get the majority of my amusement. Then again, I have too many siblings bartering for computer time.

* * *

"Legolas, I don't understand!" Eirthriel exclaimed, looking around them in ill-concealed fear. "This isn't the way we usually go to Rivendell," she protested, scanning the forest warily.

Legolas looked around them, and slowly drew his sister to a stop. He listened carefully for a moment, then let out a sharp whistle. Above them Zetea called back. He smiled faintly. "You must trust me, Eirthriel," he murmured softly. "Come down."

"Legolas?" she asked, holding tightly to her mare's mane. He held a hand up, and she slowly took it, frowning as he helped her to the ground.

"Shh," he soothed, fastening a pouch to his horse before giving them their instructions. The two burst forward, running quickly to Imladris. "Come with me," he murmured, taking her hand. After a few minutes of walking he saw one of Nenya's favorite wolves. He tightened his grip on Eirthriel's hand when she would have backed away. "It's all right, Eirthriel. I promise it will be fine."

"What's going on?"

"Long story, of which I know only pieces. We must hurry." He gave her a pair of leggings but refused to turn entirely, keeping a watch on her from the corner of his eyes since he felt too keenly how open to attack they were while in this part of the forest, practically unprotected. When she had readied herself, he nodded to the wolf, who knocked Eirthriel onto his back. "Hold on," he warned her with a smile. "And don't worry."

Eirthriel's eyes were wide as she looked at the large silver beast beneath her. "Right," she agreed slowly. "Don't worry. My brother has lost his mind, but I shouldn't worry."

Legolas chuckled softly and began running. Her wolf followed, nearly leaving her behind. Soon he felt the others close, and three more wolves closed in on them.

"Legolas!"

"Don't worry," he reminded her, pausing only for the wolf he had ridden before to accept his weight. They stopped for a while only when Eirthriel was unable to continue, needing to rest.

"About time we stopped," she muttered.

Legolas shook his head. "We must make haste, dear sister."

"Why?"

"To be safe," he answered.

"I think that she-elf has distorted your sense of judgment."

He sighed softly. "You're probably right, but it is better to be a little cautious than dead." He handed her some of the odd waybread Nenya made. "Eat, and then prepare for rest."

"Where is the wonder elf? And why are we riding wolves when we had two perfectly good horses?"

A soft chuckle sounded above them. Legolas tilted his head, finding her quickly. "Come on down and join us, Nenya."

She dropped to the ground soundlessly. "Things have gone well."

"The horses?"

"Shall be fine. They worry at their watchers, but do not fear."

"Good." Legolas nodded slightly as he glanced ahead. "What now?"

"You go back. I continue."

He frowned. "Wait a minute. What do you mean, you continue? This is a group effort."

"Not anymore. Their responsibility now likes in keeping the royal family alive. My duty is to the cessation of the attacks, which I cannot assist in while in the southern part of the forest. I head north."

"Then I—"

"No!" Nenya shook her head, her hair already bound back for the coming adventure. "You cannot help me now. To try would be to face certain death, Legolas."

"You two are so gloomy," Eirthriel muttered. "I take it we aren't going to Rivendell?" she asked tartly, turning on Legolas.

"No. You two needed to be away from the palace while I try and prove what I suspect." Nenya watched the princess intently as she tried to absorb that information.

"What about the rest of our family?" Legolas asked, frowning.

Nenya looked at him for a long moment. "I believe there is danger there as well, but the both know well how to handle themselves." Her eyes grew cold.

Eirthriel shivered to look at her. "Why do you have black eyes?"

Nenya looked at her for an instant, lifting a brow. "A legacy from my mother."

The princess looked away. "And black hair, too."

"Again, from my mother."

"Don't you know of your father?" Legolas asked even as Eirthriel commented again.

"It's like Teraien."

"No," Nenya murmured to Legolas. Then she lifted solemn eyes to Eirthriel. "I know," she answered softly, before she moved from her crouch to her feet. "I should be off. Many days have to pass before I can get there, and the sooner the better, now."

Legolas looked up at her, and for a moment, he wasn't looking at Nenya, the she-elf who had saved his life and put him in a dress as he slept. He was looking at a black-haired, black-eyed elf with short black hair… he shivered slightly, seeing too much there when he should see nothing. "The bond between us?" he asked softly, pausing her escape.

She glanced back at him over her shoulder, her eyes dimmed for an instant before determination settled over her features, brightening her eyes with a cold fire as the slight light of the forest clung to her, making her seem to glow. For the first time he noticed the bow, quiver and blades on her back, the sword at her side.

"Shall I wish you luck and blessings?" he asked softly, moving to stand beside her.

Slowly she shook her head. "No. It would be wrong for you to do so, considering my anticipated prey."

"Do you plan to return?"

"I hope to," she agreed softly. "But it is uncertain." She took a deep breath and looked at Eirthriel for an instant before facing north again. "Take care of her, Legolas. She you can trust above all others. She who holds no secrets from you, who does not harbor any evil in her veins or heart. Do not forsake her to help a stranger." Before Legolas could respond she walked away, her steps quickening to a loping run. Soon the majority of the wolf pack flowed past their camp. Only a few were not going, the two he and Eirthriel would ride back, and the pups that were not yet old enough for such a war. For an instant he fancied he could hear a soft skittering above him, and silently sent a prayer to the stars for his friends good fortune despite her insistence he should not do so.


	32. Hunting

There were only two ways she knew of to stop a spider from attacking a village of elves. The first was to kill the spider. The second was to discover why it was attacking in the first place, and stop the reason.

She was trying both.

She knew the woods well, a mental map poured into her blood over thousands of years, which told her where she could find the prey she sought. She could tell where her spiders were as well, more strongly, but she sought out the black spiders, hiding herself in the trees with her cloak, grateful their eyes were not as good as hers as she slipped among them.

She lifted her hand to fell the first one she came across for her night's work, but a sound from the ground made her pause. She retreated to the cleft between branches to listen as the voice lifted more than any spider's ever would.

"So, they thought they could escape me," the voice hissed. "So wrong they were! I've got them now. Dead, poor dears. The dear little princess and the weakling prince are dead, my darlings!" A chorus of pleased hisses spread through the trees.

Nenya shivered and remained silent, unable to see the elf who spoke to them. She could guess, but guesses weren't enough, and even if she was right about who it was, the elf below could see her if she moved from her place enough to see him.

"Poor, poor little elves. Gone to be with their mother at last, killed in the same way. Knocked from their horses and bitten before they knew what happened, I'd wager."

Nenya let a dark smile escape as relief she wasn't expecting flooded through her. She wasn't expecting it, because she wasn't aware she had been concerned for Legolas and Eirthriel. _From their horses? I wouldn't bet on that one._

An enraged hiss came from below her, screaming curses about the dear little elves that had died. The spiders hated Legolas because he hunted them. Not that they really needed a reason to hate any elf.

Something nudged at her periphery senses, so she slowly eased herself away, soon hearing an enraged screech. She smiled again, knowing the spiders had come back to inform their master the dear little elves still lived.

But do the horses?

Nenya's smile faded away as she slid away as quickly as she could without being noticed.


	33. Don't know why

"I wish I'd paid more attention when she spoke to them," Dareklien muttered as he looked at the pacing wolves in concern.

"I know what you mean," Ertelen muttered back. The elves had been growing more worried as the days passed without any sign the elves could determine from the north.

Legolas sighed and shook his head. "If it were bad news, they would have split up, some going to help. They just wish they could. That's all."

"When did you get to be such an expert on wolves?" Dareklien asked in annoyance.

Legolas smiled faintly, absently closing his hands into fists, running his fingers over the slight remaining marks on his palms.

"Are we really just going to sit here while she's off battling spiders alone?"

"Hardly alone, Ertelen," Legolas murmured softly. "She takes two armies with her."

"Hardly armies, Legolas," Ertelen scoffed. "A few dozen wolves and spiders against an unknown mass!"

"Spiders?" Eirthriel asked in confusion. She turned a frowning glance on Legolas. "It seems there is much you haven't told me."

He smiled slightly and looked up as Argile circled over them. "I wonder what he's after," he mused. He left the big flet and climbed quickly up to Nenya's flet. "What is it, Argile?" he asked softly. The bird said nothing, just stared at him for a moment before flying off again. Soon he circled back, tilted his head at Legolas, and then flew away again, not returning, though Legolas waited for a while.

When he went down to the big flet, it was to find two elves readying themselves for war. "What are you doing?"

"We're going to help. Even if we just kill a few spiders, that's a few she won't have to kill by herself." Dareklien glared at Legolas. "I don't know what she told you, what she said, but I've hunted spiders before, and I've only gotten better being here. There have been attacks. We know it, even if she's no longer here to tell us. You can feel it, the darkness growing, just as we can… perhaps better. It creeps in here, with her gone. We're going to help."

Miranol and Oleydya looked at each other, and then to him for direction. They weren't warriors. The weren't hunters. But they were Nenya's friends as well, and wanted to know what to do.

Still, she had warned him away. He didn't understand why, which worried him more than anything. If he only knew why, he could decide what to do with a modicum of intelligence. But he didn't know _why_.

It burned him to remain here, when she could need their help, or could already be injured. He had thought about that hundreds of times in the last few weeks. They didn't know if she was alive.

Somehow, _he_ knew she was alive, that something would change if she died, but he didn't know how long she could stay that way living away from everything she knew, away from her flets, away from her waybread.

Slowly he nodded. "You're right."

Miranol and Oleydya began to prepare.

He held up a hand and lifted a brow. "You think you're going somewhere?"

"With you… right?"

He shook his head. "Not a chance. Before this began you two had only the very basics—if that—of weaponry down. You have little more now."

"We know spiders."

"As do we. Small numbers can hide better, can get out with less chance of being seen. Besides, Nenya risked a lot to get Eirthriel out of the palace, and someone needs to remain to assure her safety, should the spiders turn to revenge."

"She did?" Eirthriel asked with a frown. "What? Why?"

Legolas sighed. "She risked her friends, and the time she could have used to head north."

Miranol frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Then shouldn't you use everything at your disposal to help her now?"

Legolas frowned at him, quirking one brow. "I'm listening."

"Take a look," Miranol murmured, leading hem over to the billows he'd set up when they first arrived.

After a brief demonstration of Miranol's device, Legolas nodded and sent Miranol to prepare, while instructing Oleydya on how to help them as she wrung her hands and bit her lip, obviously trying to think of some reason for her to come along. Thankfully she was unable to think of one.

He shouldered his bow, his quiver and his knives, picking up his sword, moving to his sister while trying to ignore the emotional goodbye occurring not far away. "Keep this with you at all times, Eirthriel. Be careful, and don't leave the flets until we come back for you." He paused for a moment. "Only one who has been here will come back, my sister. No one else, even if you believe them worthy of your trust."

"I still think you're paranoid," she whispered softly, standing on her tiptoes to reach his forehead for a kiss. "But good luck."


	34. Endless nights

Nenya slid her blade through the spider's tough skin, the quick cut severing any chance for noise from the spider. She rolled it carefully off the branch, into its own web so it wouldn't make any noise by falling from the tree. Another sleeping spider was directly ahead of her, and then another dead spider was rolled from the branch which was now coated black.

Things were _not_ going according to plan. She was supposed to just slink in, kill the spiders, and slip out within a few weeks time. Instead, the report of rider-less horses was somehow carried to the king, so Thranduil sat on his throne believing his two youngest children were dead.

Hunting parties had been sent into the woods, making the spiders more wary, though the hunters rarely killed any. Riled them up a lot, sure, but hardly killed any. Certainly not enough to say they even put a dent in the population.

Someone must have been _feeding_ the damned things for there to be so many.

One good thing had come of the unexpected happenings. A party of dwarves had stumbled into the spider trees… or rather, under them, and had been dragged away. Though dwarves are dwarves, spiders are spiders. She was about to begin her attack anew when something began throwing stones at the spiders.

Something she couldn't see, despite her spider-enhanced elven eyes. Something with a touch of magic, no doubt, but curiously enough it had an elven blade, which was set to good use against the spiders.

So consumed were the beings by the taunts of the invisible knife bearer that she was able to kill a large portion of them while the rhyming specter was away, and more after he had cut his friends down. A curious and very small being, she noted when it appeared, but her attention returned to the slaughter of the black-blooded beasts. By the time she looked to the strangers once more, the hunters were back, and had captured them, marching them away to be dealt with by Thranduil.

That unusual event had damaged the spider population, and the confusion and terror were so rampant in the spiders that that night she was able to kill a good portion in that colony without being spotted.

Still, she knew her luck couldn't last like this forever. Because of the elf who commanded the spiders she was unwilling to allow the wolves around too long, using them only as far spread guards or hunters, gathering her food along with their own, or finding some source she could harvest herself when she took a quick break from hunting.

She was growing weary of this battle. Those few weeks had turned into a month, and was slowly drawing into two. She was overworked and under rested, barely eating. The only good thing was that the person behind the attacks—which continued—didn't know where she was. He could see the results of her night's work, but he never knew where the next place attacked would be, and spiders are ultimately lazy, more willing to let him worry and stew than try and keep a watch for a possible assailant.

If she made one wrong move, though, she would be surrounded by them with little hope of escape. Her arrows had been spent long ago, and she had not the time to craft more. Her blades were stained black, as were her clothes and flesh. It was an advantage, really, able to hide in the darkness much better by being completely black, but just the thought of all the spider blood clinging to her made her stomach churn. She tried not to think about it.

She plunged her blade through the next spider's head, but the blow was too forceful. She severed the head entirely, and while the body rolled like it was supposed to, the head just fell. And hit the ground with a surprisingly loud noise.

All around her glowing yellow eyes appeared as the spiders were roused, hissing their surprise and rage as they discovered the few dozen of their kin she had already slaughtered that night. She ran through the trees as quickly as she could, but this was the largest colony left, and everywhere had more spiders.

She was about to panic, but only her one rational thought kept her from giving into the fear—if she allowed herself to panic, she would surely die.

Finally she gave up the trees, knowing spiders prefer not leaving the trees for the ground and that she could run much faster on the ground. She let out a howl, alerting her wolves and spiders to the situation at hand, telling them to get free.

She glanced over her shoulder to see how close they were, and slammed into a tree that hadn't been in front of her when she turned her head. A tree that had arms and held her tightly for an instant, before she was released and the welcome sound of an elven bow sang in the night. Another joined it, and then the elves stood with her as the throng approached, some deterred but most enraged by the help she was receiving. With the four elves, her wolves and spiders at her side, the spiders who hadn't fled were quickly killed, or trapped in the wickedly pronged traps they had brought along and quickly set up.

Nenya sighed in relief as she pulled her sword from the last spider, sheathing it without bothering to try and find a clean place to wipe the blood off. Then she walked over to the archer who had stepped into her path.

"Ow!" he muttered, backing up.

She hit him again.

"Nenya!" he protested, rubbing the back of his head.

"You are a complete idiot!"

"An idiot who likely just saved your life," he reminded her quietly. "Why didn't you ask for our help, Nya? You could have used it."

"You've just forfeited your life, Legolas," she muttered angrily. "I couldn't ask that of anyone."

His eyes were solemn as he looked her over. Layers of dirt and blood covered her skin, caked in her hair and clothing, dripped from her. All of it black, so at least she wasn't hurt. She was a tad too thin, and her eyes were too dim. "Last time you ate?"

"Two nights ago," she answered absently.

"Slept?"

"A week ago," she muttered, suspicion clouding her voice as she looked at him through tilted gaze.

"Bathed?" he continued, shaking his head at her sorry state. He sighed softly. "You needed us. And you still need us," he added, handing her a bit of waybread.

She stuffed it in her mouth, not caring that it proved she hadn't eaten well recently. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm fine, Legolas," she protested the look.

"You are not!" he exploded. "How could you think we could sit around?" he asked, changing tactics. "We're trained warriors, and you've taught us about spiders. How could we really just sit back, relax, and wait for the year to pass?" He slunk closer to her, his eyes piercing her with blue flame. "You really think we didn't care if you were out here? Didn't care that we really didn't know if you were dead or alive?"

"You knew," she whispered softly, finding breathing hard as he approached, slowly backing her away from the others since she was smart enough to keep retreating from his anger.

"I knew you were alive, true. But what if something had changed? I would have been far too far away to be of any help. Do you know what realizing that does to someone?"

Slowly she nodded, aware she was drowning in fire as he cornered her against a tree. "Yes," she breathed.

His head lowered closer to hers, his breath caressing her cheek. "It wipes out any self-concern, any thought of self-interest." He lifted his head just slightly, his lips hovering over hers.

Those little tingles sparked through her body. Weakness pervaded her limbs. _Lack of food, that's all it is._ As he came slightly closer, his body coming into contact with hers, she couldn't repress a shiver. _Lack of food nothing! You have to move!_ But she didn't want to. Not really. She knew she should, knew she should whisper that one word that would set him aside as he was meant to be, forever apart from her.

"Do you know what that did to me?" he breathed, so close she could taste his breath.

"Legolas," she moaned softly, turning her head to the side.

"What?" he asked gently, turning her head back to his. "Tell me," he pleaded, feeling her slipping away from him even as they were so close.

"My brother…" she whispered.

Legolas stiffened and slowly shook his head. She intoxicated him, numbed his rational mind until all that was left was decidedly irrational and unconcerned with whatever she claimed had to keep them apart. Her brother. Funny, he sure didn't feel very much like her brother. He sighed softly and backed up, giving her room to slip out of his grasp. "Will you tell me someday?" he asked quietly.

"I just did." She shimmied up a tree before he could even blink, out of sight before he could think to move to follow her.

_What?_


	35. Capture

Okay... um... maybe this will explain things...

Sorry it's short, but I've been having computer problems the last few days and had to re-type it on a school computer when given the chance.

And maybe it won't explain things...

Dunno.

Let me know.

Thanks guys!

* * *

It was weary, hunting spiders all the time. Thankfully they were often close enough to several villages they could escape the endless hunt for a short while and a meal, and to repair the traps that Miranol had created. They worked well, but sometimes they had to clear out too quickly, and ended up leaving a critical piece behind. Once the design was known to by the villagers, their smiths often hung them in the woods… which wasn't always helpful, but so far they hadn't been caught up in them.

He hoped Nenya was doing well. They had been unable to find her, but knew she was alive, just as he knew where the spiders were, and what the land was like… to a degree. He had a sense of having been there before, though he knew it wasn't so, and he got a strong dark spot on his mental map of the forest whenever spiders were close. White spiders and the wolves were a brighter spot, but Nenya seemed able to keep herself from his notice.

He sighed softly and looked around, something telling him they weren't alone though he couldn't find anything out of place or on his mental map.

"What's the matter, Legolas?" Ertelen asked softly. They'd gotten used to this, though it still surprised them. By the time they could sense the spiders, he had already steered them into a safe place which was good for shooting and trapping. Oleydya had done well, sending them food and arrows, many of which they sent with the wolves to Nenya, knowing they would get them to her safely even if she wouldn't acknowledge their help.

"I don't know," he murmured, his gaze flickering over anything that moved, that might be out of place.

"So I find you well yet again," a voice hissed from behind a tree, just as blackness swarmed through Legolas's mental map, covering it with darkness as spiders surrounded them, wrapping them quickly in thick, sticky threads.

The attack had been so sudden, so overwhelming, that they had only been able to kill a few of the creatures before they were overcome. They were trapped against the trees, and the elf who had spoke walked forward.

"Weakling prince. What ever made you think you could ever beat me? I have triumphed."

"A coward who walks in shadows, hides his face and masks his voice calls me weak?" Legolas laughed softly, shaking his head. "And I thought these last months were laughable." He held his head up, his eyes flashing as he confronted the one who had wanted him dead. Somehow, this couldn't be right. After everything he had done, after everything he had survived, it didn't seem possible he would die like this. It added a sense of the unreal to the whole thing, mingling in the blood that turned the world darker than the lack of light.

"You know who I am," the elf hissed.

"But do you know who you are?" a new voice hissed from the shadows. "It's rather amusing to see you flounder around without a clue to your past, stumbling across things you should have been told when you reached adulthood," it continued. "Of course, you never knew which voice to listen to, did you?"

"Show yourself!" he hissed, leaving the immediate circle of bound elves to confront the new being.

"Gladly!" Another elf dropped from the trees, but hissed loudly when a spider moved to secure her. Nenya lowered her head slightly, her eyes seeming to glow in the darkness. "Be gone!" The spiders backed up a bit, milling around in confusion.

"She has spirit," one hissed.

"Strong blood."

"Let's drink of her."

"Good luck, my aunts," she hissed back. "I am the daughter of the spider witch. Know it and fear me, for I control you blood as does this traitor of an elf." Her eyes flashed angrily as she turned to the elf in question. "You are pathetic," she hissed, circling slightly as she drew closer to the hooded being.

"You don't know who I am," he sneered.

She laughed softly, a horrible, hissing sound. "I know better than you do. You were never terribly clever, I'm afraid. Spider poison. Really! Who but you could have got it, without the fear of injury that would have frightened anyone else weak enough to choose poison?"

"What are you talking about?" the elf asked, his voice losing a little bit of its hiss.

"You don't know?" Nenya asked, still circling. A small smile twisted her lips. "We are two of a kind, of course. Always have been. After all," she hissed, lowering her body slightly closer to the ground as she studied his movements, "we have the same mother, brother dearest."


	36. But words

Okay, new chapter... and I'm off to write a mid-term... sigh.

* * *

Silence reigned for a long moment, while everyone, even the spiders and wolves, seemed to pause to digest her words.

"What?" he hissed. "You are not my sister. My mother had only three children."

She shook her head and rounded him again. "Our mother had only us two. Your father, though, he had three children. You should have figured it out by now. Why haven't you? The mother who was never yours? You hated her, and then she was dead. That's when you partially figured it out, isn't it? That's when you knew you were different. When you killed the Queen."

"She was killed by spiders!" the elf defended, walking so he kept her in sight. Legolas's eyes widened as he fit things together, recognizing the voice, now that it was truly a voice again. _Teraien_.

"You ordered them to do it."

"I didn't know I could command them!" he protested. "It was an accident!"

"But when you found out, you didn't care. You didn't suffer. After all, she had always loved her children best."

"Wha-what are you talking about? She was my mother! I won't believe your lies!"

"No," Nenya murmured, shaking her head slightly, her black eyes still focused on him. "She was not your mother."

"Of course she was!" Teraien insisted, pushing his hood back. "I am the prince who shall be king, and she was my mother!"

"No," Nenya repeated. "You will never be king. The bastard son of a king should hardly hold the throne, should he? It has not happened in our history, and it shall not happen here."

"You don't know what you're speaking of! She was my mother!"

"You hated her. But didn't you ever think about it? Your hair, your eyes, so dark, so odd. Un-elf-like. Because it didn't come from elves. It came from the spiders. From your true mother." Nenya threw her hood back. "From our mother."

"No!"

"Yes," she insisted, her eyes narrowing on him as he insisted on denying the truth. "The blood of the spiders comes from her, runs through us both. You cannot believe Thranduil would allow you to rule his kingdom. You, with black blood in his veins? You who were in her womb when she drank of their blood for the first time? You who were abandoned by the only one who could have understood the darkness in your mind, the craving for things elves abhor. She abandoned you, saw you were evil, without starlight shining in your black eyes. She left you with the father who hadn't wanted a child with her, left you with her lover, but kept the child she bore an elf she never loved. She kept that child, loved that child. She loved me."

Teraien was breathing too quickly as he turned jerkily to keep her in sight as she continued to circle him. "You lie!"

"Do I? You know my story fills in too many gaps. You look nothing like them, but you do look like me. Because we had the same mother, share spider blood, that odd little quirk in us that binds us and makes others see us as odd. What reason have I to lie?"

"You wish to free your friends!"

"Friends? Can we have friends?" she asked softly. "Creatures of darkness have no friends in the light."

Teraien paused at that. "You do not wish to save them?"

"I would free Legolas. After all, he is, in a way, a brother to me."

"But if you don't, we could rule Mirkwood. Thranduil's old heart is breaking, with his precious children believed dead. He is fading fast, and when he's gone, we can rule. We will be all powerful!"

Nenya stopped. "Fool!" she bellowed. "I am all powerful! You are weak! You stay in shadows, hide your black heart from those around you. Stay in the heart of darkness with the dead, but leave the living to the light!" She was a terrible sight to behold, her eyes flashing blue in the slight starlight, her entire body black with blood, her teeth bared as she faced her brother.

"You lied!" he snarled, drawing his sword.

"I have not," she countered. Slowly she smiled, a wicked smile. "Your dear little darlings are confused, dark prince. They don't know who to turn to. After all, you don't even recall your name, while I was trained and have lived all my life in their ways, their woods. Who do you think they'll turn to?"

"My name is Teraien!"

"Is it? Funny. That's not what Mother would have said, were she here."

"Why isn't she?"

Nenya smiled, a bitter, dark little smile. "She died of a broken heart, of course." She laughed softly, pain echoing hollowly in the sound. "She bore a bastard who was evil, of darkness. How could any elf bear that for more than a few hundred years? As you grew darker, her will left her, since she tried to help Thranduil deal with you."

"She abandoned you, too," Teraien smiled.

"No," Nenya smiled, and their smiles were both terrible. "She left me with her sisters, those who carried her blood, with the home she had built, with the letters she was written by her lover so I could know her through them. She has always been with me."

"No matter. I will destroy you," Teraien hissed, regaining some of his composure. He called to the spiders, yelling at them to capture her.

Nenya laughed, turning her attention to the milling spiders. "Dear me, little darlings. What has happened? You seek to obey the one who knows not his name?"

"My name is Teraien!" he screeched, his eyes glowing yellow as if he was one of the spiders around them.

"No, it is not. You should remember the name she gave you. It is all that held your dark heart to this world."

The elf paused, frowning. "Tell me, if you believe you know."

"I don't feel like it. You have decent elves fastened to trees. It ruins my concentration." Nenya yawned softly, covering her mouth with her hand absently. She had gone from a deadly, intent hunter to bored child in an instant. After watching Teraien's mood swings, it didn't seem so odd. Considering.

"You do not know."

"Of course I do. I have letters from your father to our mother. One tells her he changed your name to Teraien from… Dareklien, are you well?"

Teraien growled and leapt upon her. "Witch!"

"Bastard!" she taunted, throwing him off of her easily.

He rushed back, holding a blade over his head as he hurled himself on her. The spiders were in utter confusion, and so they didn't noticed the wolves and spiders approaching, releasing their hostages.

As soon as they were free, it was chaos, spider parts going in every direction. Calls for Nenya echoed over the hissing shrieks of dying spiders, but she never responded. Suddenly they spotted her, and Teraien.

The elder prince lifted his head and was about to strike her when she stabbed upwards. The blade fell from his hands, his mouth forming a surprised 'o' as his dark eyes slowly lost their yellow glow as he dropped to his knees, then to the ground. Nenya recovered her blade and turned to the elves, to her spiders and her wolves. It was over.

She managed only a few steps before she fell gracelessly to the ground. Wolves, spiders, and elves circled her, a falcon crying from overhead. Arms, strong but shaking slightly wrapped around her. She smiled up faintly and looked at her wolves. "You must take his body to the gates of the palace tonight. The war finished yesterday, and they shall be wondering after him." One of the wolves nodded and then looked back at her beseechingly.

Dareklien rolled his eyes. "They understand us?" he groaned, thinking of all the trouble knowing that would have saved.

"Nya?" Legolas asked softly, holding her tighter. "Nenya?" he shook her slightly.

She blinked, focusing with some difficulty on him. She smiled slightly. "The debt is paid. The stone is released. Take it to the flet beyond mine. Your father's letters are there. Take them, and the book he gave me." She drew in a painful breath. Wait two days before you go to him. Do not wait too long to retrieve your sister."

"Nya, won't you be with me?" he asked softly, pulling her entirely into his embrace.

She shook her head. "No." She smiled slightly. "It's ironic, isn't it? That which binds us is no longer there, but it is of no importance now."

"I will take you to the healers," he insisted, starting to get up.

"No. Leave me be."

"But you may have a chance," he protested, his voice rasping as he noticed for the first time the amount of blood she was loosing every moment.

She reached up and brushed the single tear from his eye. "You carry me with you." She touched the back of his hand. "Let me go. Let me take my last moments of peace with those who shall bury me, as their ancestors buried my mother many years ago." She stirred slightly, seeking to escape his hold. "Legolas," she breathed, "you must. I do not wish to die amidst this carnage. Allow me this one thing, please. You have the answers you sought."

"They are but words."

She nodded slightly. "True." She smiled and touched his cheek, leaning up to kiss his forehead before calling the large wolf to her, carefully situating herself before the wolf slowly took off.

Legolas buried his face in his hands as the mournful song of the bereaved wolves rose in the air, carrying his heart deeper into the forest, leaving bleeding fragments along the way.


	37. The task of the stone

Alright, quick update, because NO, last chapter WAS NOT the end. Thought I should post this even if it is short to let y'all know. We're getting close, but we're not there just yet. I'll write "Complete" in the story description when it's done.

cupkate: Yup. Terian and Nenya's mother was the spider witch, her father some random elf who ended up lost in the wood and taken in by the spider-witch, and obviously Terian's father is Thranduil. Well, was, really, since he's dead. I was working on the thought that as long as there was blood between them, they couldn't be together. If Legolas were anyone but the prince, it probably would have been okay...

Tiffiany-45: Nope, they're not truly blood.

* * *

Thranduil was a shadow of his former self. All of his children killed within a few months, many of his people killed in a foolish war his son had helped instigate while Thranduil was lying weakly in bed. The weakness was there still, but he was on his throne. He had nothing else left. The only thing he could seem to grasp was even that wouldn't last long—he was dying.

The doors were suddenly thrown open, and four hideously filthy elves walked into the room with a demeanor of strength, power, success, and also failure that seemed totally at odds with their clothing. Black blood, and red blood too, covered them, from what he could see, head to toe.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked wearily.

"The task of the stone is complete," a voice answered with just as much hollow weariness. "The stone needs to be returned."

"How could she have completed it?"

"She gave her life to do so, Father. Please, give us the stone so we can collect the others, and put her things in order."

"How can you dare—" he paused as the impertinent elf in question came forward. In the firelight he could suddenly see past the shadows cast by the hood. "Legolas?"

The elf frowned slightly. "Who else, Father?" he asked softly, pushing his hood back. He ran a grimy hand through equally filthy hair.

Thranduil was astonished, and overjoyed. He pulled himself to his feet to hug his son and drew him into the rooms beyond the throne. "What of your sister?"

"Safe," Legolas answered with a frown. "Father, what is wrong?"

"Your horses were seen heading to Imladris without riders!"

Legolas winced slightly. "No one was supposed to see that."

Thranduil's eyes widened as realization dawned. "Nenya?"

Legolas's expression clouded, his eyes growing mistier than usual. "Yes, Father."

"What is it, my son?" My Son. He never thought the words would sound so wonderful.

"Nenya left us when the task was completed. Her wounds were extensive…" Legolas closed his eyes and drew a shaky breath. "I do not believe she survived." When he opened his eyes, Thranduil was looking into Grief, kin to Death for the elves.

"Legolas, how close did you and she become?" he asked cautiously.

"You should have told me she was as a sister. It was your place to tell me. Your slight warning wasn't enough. By the time she told me the truth, I knew I could never think of her as a sister."

"Well," Thranduil murmured a bit gruffly. "It doesn't matter now, anyway. Teraien is dead. The restriction is released."

"If she lives. And if she has died…" Slowly Legolas shook his head. "Father, you may lose another son." His voice broke slightly, and for the first time in over two thousand years, Thranduil saw tears in his son's eyes. Legolas wiped at his eyes impatiently with the heel of his palm before any were shed. "I need the stone. She wished it returned to her mother's flet."

"It is its proper place," Thranduil agreed softly, moving to get the stone. He paused for a moment, and then pulled a chest from the side of the room. "It is also where these should go." He paused his son with a small smile. "But you must remain here for a while, before you deal with such grievous things, as long as Eirthriel is truly as safe as you claim."


	38. A quiet wood

Hmm... We get almost to the end and no one is still reading. Well, fine. Thanks to tsalagi, this chapter's for you!

* * *

The horses picked their way through the darkness carefully, but their riders were still weary from their adventures, uncaring for the most part how long it took them to arrive. They knew they were awaited, for Argile had carried messages for them once in a while.

Eirthriel ran from the trees with a grin, tossing Legolas's sword at his feet as she threw her arms around his neck. She laughed and was about to tease him, when she saw the seriousness in his eyes. "What is it?"

He sighed, lifting a brow. "You should probably sit down."

"Why?"

"It was Teraien, Eirthriel. He commanded the spiders to attack, tried to kill me… killed our mother, though that may have been an accident."

She paled, sinking to the ground. "What?"

Legolas knelt before her, keeping his hold on her arms. "Eirthriel… there's more."

"More?" she laughed shakily, lifting a hand to her face, rubbing at her eyes as if it would clear away the betrayal he spoke of. "Great. What else could there possibly be?"

He took a deep breath. "Father is weakened… probably poisoned as well. He plans to sail to the West soon." His hands tightened as she took a sharp breath. "He shall live, Eirthriel… but Nenya…"

Eirthriel frowned and slowly shook her head. "You must be wrong. She was too strong to die."

He smiled faintly and got to his feet. "I wish I was. There are some things we must do, and then we can return home. We may have a few seasons with Father before he leaves. You are, of course, welcome to go with him if you wish. I shall remain here."

"What of Teraien?"

"Dead. He took over the throne after poisoning Father, and Nenya killed him in her own defense."

"Then if she isn't dead, you would have to have her killed."

He shook his head. "No."

"But even if it was in the service of the King, as a traitor he should have been killed by family, or by command. To have any of royal blood, evil or not, not so killed—"

"He was, Eirthriel." Besides, she wasn't at all right. Nenya had been perfectly within her rights to defend her life.

"What?" she stared at him as if he had gone daft. "But Nenya's not related to us!"

"Not anymore," he agreed softly. He sighed and sat in the dust beside her once more. "Nenya's mother was Father's lover before he married mother. They had Teraien. Why he never told any of us, I don't know. I haven't had the heart to ask. Teraien didn't know, or at least didn't wish to believe it."

"So that's what she meant—she _was_ like Teraien!"

"No!" Legolas vehemently denied it, shaking his head. "She was nothing like him. He was evil, she was light. She fought to help us, he plotted to destroy us. He poisoned us, she cured us. Never compare them in such a way again, Eirthriel. You do her a great injustice."

Eirthriel frowned and looked up at him, lifting her fingers to run lightly beneath his misty eyes. She bit her lip. "What of you, then?"

"I shall live," he stated shortly, getting to his feet, turning away.

"Truly?" she insisted, following him to the base of the main tree.

He paused, his head bowing for a moment. "I must remain here, Eirthriel, as long as Father has gone West. We cannot leave Mirkwood to fend for itself, especially in such a time. Right now they believe Teraien died in the confusion of the war—so far none have mentioned he never lifted a finger to help the kingdom before, except for spewing orders which would have been against Father's decree in the handling of the dwarves and all their problems…" He trailed off, his lips tightening. "He left quite a mess of our home, dear sister. As Father is not strong enough to remain…"

"You will, for the kingdom," she stated bitterly.

"What else is there? You and Father shall travel west. Someday I shall be able to join you."

"Will you last that long?"

"As long as I am needed," he agreed with a sigh.

"I never thought I would be thankful for a poisoning," Eirthriel shook her head, resting a hand on his shoulder. "But without it, I would have lost both of my brothers, along with the sort of sister I never knew I had, until she was not only no longer related but among the casualties of a war we should never have had to fight."

A faint smile escaped him as Oleydya jumped from a low branch and ran to the group. He watched through a tilted gaze as Miranol swept her up, then averted his eyes as the two kissed.

He sighed and took the chest of letters to the flet beyond those of Nenya's he had seen before. It was full of things he could tell were not often touched. It was her mother's room, and he would bet she had changed nothing since her mother left the flets to die.

There was a desk off to one side which was in better shape than Nenya's, a bed to the other. A chest, much like the one he had brought, sat at the foot of that bed, full of letters. He thumbed through a few, seeing his father's concern for Teraien, the honest worry about the darkness he saw growing ever faster after the queen's death. He felt his father's desire to put things right, but sensed his inability to do so. He picked up some of the letters she had written back to him, and found similar concerns expressed, along with an overwhelming love—for his father, Nenya, and the wood.

She would have made a good queen.

Why hadn't Father married her?

The question was late in coming, he knew, but he also knew he was glad they had never married. He didn't want Nenya to have ever been his sister, and was glad their blood no longer ran together, even if hers no longer flowed.

He exchanged the chests and pulled the medallion from where he had kept it for the journey, and hung it from a broken branch over the desk. Hesitating only a moment, he pulled his mithril pendant from under his shirt, disentangling his hair from the links. He set it over the stone, and left without looking back.

He paused in her room with a sigh before forcing himself on to the other flet, picking up the book he had once searched for. He fingered the cover for a moment, running his mind through the stories and illuminations, and then laid it back on the shelf. He could never read it.

The others were ready by the time he reached the big flet. Though all thought it a waste to leave the flets empty, none could stand to stay with her gone, so they left them closed up from the last rain. There were no falcon cries in the still air, no feelings of being watched. The forest was dead, as dead as the black spiders who would bother no one else, ever again.


	39. Pledge

Sorry this was delayed, guys, but I haven't had any time for computers recently. School's a mess.

* * *

"Your highnesses, welcome home."

Legolas and Eirthriel looked grimly at the guard, both wondering why he seemed rather cheerful. Together they walked silently to the main hall, where they would take the seats of ruling, which had been their parents—and by all rights, still should be.

They didn't want the seats. They wanted what they could never have—their family back. Teraien excluded, in that. They wanted their mother, and wished for their father to be well when they stepped into the throne room.

They wanted that most of all, wanted him to be well.

They wanted it so much, they thought they were seeing things when they walked in and saw the same thing they had seen nearly every other time they had walked into the throne room.

The father was sitting on his throne, a crown of berries and autumn leaves on his head: a tribute to the season and the success of their people in overcoming the threat they had lived with throughout their history in the wood.

"Father?" Eirthriel murmured, her mouth hanging open for a long moment. "Legolas?" she asked, turning to her dumbstruck brother.

"Father?" he asked, frowning. "Are you well, or have my eyes been enchanted to see what is not there?"

"You see correctly, my dear children. I have been made well, by a great healer."

"Great indeed," Legolas agreed, kneeling before his father. He clasped his father's hands gratefully, resting his forehead to the cool skin.

Thranduil smiled and lightly lifted his son's head, brushing the silvery blond hair back from misty eyes. "Many times this healer has done things worthy of praise for not only our family, but the kingdom, putting their welfare before her own. I have offered her a place here, for the rest of my time on these shores."

"You plan to stay many years then, Father?" Eirthriel asked insistently.

Thranduil chuckled softly and nodded. "I have my strength and my family once more. What more could I possibly find anywhere else? Besides, I wish to see my children married."

Eirthriel blushed, her eyes darting to Selerind before returning to her father.

Legolas's lips quirked in a shadow of what once would have passed for a smile, but slowly shook his head. "I am sorry, Father, but if you are well, I shall not remain."

Eirthriel paled as the implication sunk in. "No! You can't do that! You are going to live, Legolas, and you're going to stay here while you do it!"

He smiled faintly, face serene. "I have no desire to do so, Eirthriel. It is merely a matter of time now. I am not needed."

"I need you," she insisted, scowling at him.

Slowly he shook his head. "You do not. You have Selerind."

"And you would leave me with no brother at all? How can that be a good thing?"

"No brother would be better than Teraien, would it not?"

She sighed. "Yes, but when it is a choice between no brother and you, there is not a choice to be made. You can't just… go."

"Why not? You shall travel to the Undying Lands eventually. I shall be there."

"Perhaps," she allowed. "But I want you here, with me."

"You do not need me, any more than anyone else here does. Not with Father well once more." Legolas's brain caught up with the situation after a moment, and he looked to his father with a frown. "How has this happened, Father?"

Thranduil smiled faintly, and looked beyond his son to the one who had stood in the shadows of the mostly empty room, listening to every word. "Well?"

Slowly the healer came forward, her head bowed slightly. "There is one who needs you, young prince," she whispered softly. She took a deep breath and drew the mithril medallion from her cloak. "As my mother mad a pledge to your father with this sign, so I do to you. You offered your friendship time and again, though I tried to refuse. If you accept care of this pledge, you accept your responsibility not only to me, but to these woods, for my mother came to assist in their care, and spent her life trying to battle the darkness within it. That darkness has been diminished, but remains in remnants, as it shall for many years. You are needed here."

With hands that shook Legolas reached out and pushed the dark cloak back from black eyes which shimmered with the stars above them.

_I don't need anything from anyone._ He could still hear her saying that.

He had retorted that she just wouldn't admit it. Now she had. "What pledge?" he whispered at last, running one finger lightly against the hollow of her cheek, the sunken curve attesting to how close to death she had come… and how weak she yet was.

"That should you desire my aid, you need but send the medallion to me, and I shall come, as my mother would have if she still walked upon this earth when your father acted upon their agreement."

"And my pledge to you in return?"

"That you will always regard me as a great ally. That should I require the might of your title, you would render it as willingly as I have rendered my own skills to assist you."

Looking down at the elf he had believed had perished moons before, Legolas took a moment to compose himself. He took a deep breath and slowly lifted her eyes so she was looking at him. He nearly stopped when he saw her fear. "Then you reject the pledge I have already made you?"

She frowned, her watchful eyes sparkling over the guards who were retreating at a small sign from Thranduil. "What pledge?" she asked cautiously.

"The one I made by leaving the sign of my connection to these woods with that medallion in your flet."

Understanding flickered for only an instant, before confusion won her dark eyes once more. She held out the mithril and jewel pendant to him, her head tilted, requesting an explanation.

"I left it for you," he murmured softly, closing his hand over hers, neither taking the pendant not allowing it to fall from her fingers. "As a sign that you carry my heart, my will to live. That is a greater pledge than you would impose upon me now."

She looked at their hands, and bit her lip. "Yes," she agreed softly, her hand tightening on the medallion that had meant so much to their parents. "What would you ask of me, then?"

He smiled slightly, but shook his head. "My pledge has no cost. I give it freely, but only ever to you. Whether you accept it or not, I have made it, and I shall live, or die, by it willingly."

Nenya's eyes flickered to his father, then his sister, but she paused nowhere for more than a second. Slowly she drew a deep breath. "Then what shall it mean to me, this pledge that is given so freely?"

With his free hand he cupped her chin, lifting her gaze to his. "I would like it to mean the world to you, Nenya. I would have it be the sky and the woods, so I could give everything you love to you as freely as I give myself."

"Love? I know little of love." She turned her head to the side, pulling her chin from his grasp.

"You know enough," he whispered intently, tightening his hold on her hand. "Nya?" he asked softly, reaching up again to run his fingers lightly over her cheek, though she kept her face turned from him. "What will you decide?"

"That is a higher price than I came willing to pay," she stated after a while, her voice trembling. "I shall not render a decision in such a matter so quickly."

"Take whatever time you need," he agreed softly, moving so she was again looking up at him. "But remember all that has passed," he added, lowering his head until they were only a breath apart, until he felt the small tingles race over his skin as they always had when he drew so close to her. "All of it," he whispered softly, brushing his lips over her cheek even as he withdrew, being sure she closed her fist over her pendant as he registered the slight shiver that shot down her spine. "I shall be here, awaiting whatever answer you find is the one right for you."


	40. Despite it all

Okay, guys, here it is: The last chapter.

phoenix23: What hype?

* * *

"Why have you come?"

Legolas looked up at the trees and lifted a brow, releasing his horse to wander to grazing land. "Argile did not arrive as was agreed upon by your mother and my father. As you kept her pledge, we worried something had befallen you."

"The pledge is complete… besides, what could possibly have befallen me, after what I went through and survived in the last years?"

He smiled slightly and shrugged, even as he stepped into the large flet. The roof was once again rolled off to one side, several lighter patches indicating new repairs among the old leaves. "I did not ever say my father always makes sense."

"Then it was the royal 'we'?"

"Wouldn't that still include me?" he asked softly, tilting his head to better find her.

"I suppose so. I am fine, Legolas."

"So I hear," he agreed. "Your friends have already welcomed me back. The pups are a bit… rambunctious."

"Yes," she agreed, her voice quiet.

He followed that voice up to her mother's flet. He stepped inside without so much as a pretense at knocking, and found her sprawled on the floor, her mother's letters spread out before her. "Learning of your history?" he murmured softly, sitting beside her.

"Yes. She told him of my father."

"As he told her of my mother," he agreed. At her startled look, he shrugged. "I wanted to know what I didn't feel I could just ask."

Nenya lowered her eyes to the faded pages before her. "Do you know why…"

"Why she wasn't the queen?" He shook his head. "I've wondered about that for a while, now, and I've come up without an answer." He smiled sheepishly and tucked a bit of dark hair behind one of her finely pointed ears. "Have you an idea?"

"Not an idea. I know."

He blinked and straightened. "You _know_? How can you know?"

"Because I knew my mother," she answered at last, getting up. "She came here because the wood called to the part of all elves so easily tied to their homes. She came from the west, but found her home here, deep in the forest, even as it became Mirkwood. She could not have survived as the Queen, Legolas. She had to be out here, with living plants, the stars above her and green below her. She had to be able to watch the storms, to see the cycles of life around her… That was who she was. The palace would have been poor consolation for her, no matter how she loved Thranduil when they were young." She took a deep breath and tightened her arms around her middle, warding off the chill of her words. "He knew she wouldn't last there, just as she did. Despite their upcoming split, she allowed herself to become pregnant… she intended their child to be their consolation, but then the binding with the spider happened, and the child became their curse, their secret. She called him the death of her salvation, for she knew she would never go to the Undying Lands."

"Nenya—"

She shook her head. "He married even as she was pregnant, before they knew how the child would be, because he had to have a Queen, had to have an elf who could produce heirs to the throne, heirs the wood would bow to."

"Nenya—"

She stopped him again by turning around, fastening her bleak black eyes on him. "Did he ever love her? Did he ever love your mother? My mother never loved my father, did he love her? What a tangled mess they made of their lives… and ours." She lifted her hand to her face, covering it, hiding her eyes from his gaze. "She bore me so she had a way to keep her pledge to Thranduil, raised me so I would help secure the kingdom that she should have helped rule. All that… just because she loved him."

Not having missed the slight tremor in her hand or voice, Legolas got to his feet behind her, and cautiously wrapped his arms around her. "She loved him, and you."

"Did she? Or was I just a convenient way to make up for Teraien?"

"Why ask me? You know the answer. You've always known the answer." He shifted his weight, rocking her gently as he placed a kiss on her temple.

"Yes," she sighed softly, relaxing into his embrace for a long moment. Then she straightened and began to move away. "But although I think it was a—"

He laid a finger over her lips, and slowly shook his head. "My turn."

"Your turn?"

"You kept me from saying anything for long enough. Now you get to be quiet and listen as I tell you something I don't think you realize." He waited until her wide eyes watched him solemnly. "If they had wanted to be together, truly had desired nothing more from life than to remain united, they would have. My father was not the only one who could have taken the throne, no were there no others who could have relieved him, had he wished them to. He could have given up the throne as easily as he could have moved into the wood, had he wished to be close to her. There is no reason he had to live in the mountain, even if it is more defendable." Legolas paused and kissed her forehead. "Now, with that said, I think I should add just one thing."

"What?" she whispered when he remained silent for a long moment.

"I no longer live in the mountain."

She pulled back. "What?"

He shrugged slightly. "I knew from the first visit here that I would never be content living the rest of my life in the mountain. This was better, and not just because of the freedom, or because of you. My mother was a wood-elf, and this is home. Father had a series of flets constructed for me while I was here with you, using a design remarkably similar to that your mother used creating this place. It's not far from the mountain, of course, only a few minutes run from the gate."

"But you're the prince," she frowned at him severely, confusion wrinkling the skin between her brows even as she fought not to scowl.

"So I am," he agreed cheerfully. "Doesn't mean I have to live in the palace."

"But…"

When she failed to come up with anything after a reasonable time, he grinned, reaching out to cup her cheek with his palm. "Now then, what was it you were saying?"

"Hmm? Oh—just that I knew she couldn't live in the mountain any more than I could… no matter how much she loved Thranduil."

"Or how much you love me?" he added softly when she didn't. "You know Father doesn't object to you, and having been told the truth, the Wood views you as a hero… Miranol and Oleydya wish you back for their binding ceremony… Nya? Do you need to know anything else, need any more time before you know your decision?"

Not when he did that, she didn't. His eyes were so full of love and light… Not to mention his breath fanning over her cheek and shivering up to her ear, caressing the tip and sending shivers down her spine as those annoying little sparks began to dance and gather again. "You know," she murmured softly, holding up his pendant with one hand as she wrapped the other around his neck. "You talk too much."

"Hmm," he agreed, his eyes flashing delightedly as he lowered his head a fraction more, putting him at perfect kissing distance. "You may be right," he agreed softly, kissing her languishingly. By the time he lifted his head, the pendant was hanging around her neck, dipping down into the tunic she was wearing. He kissed his way down the chain, and nipped at her throat before lifting his head so his teeth hovered tauntingly over her ear's tip. "The Wood may need a while to get used to seeing a princess dressed as a male," he stated with a quiet chuckle before nibbling her ear. "Maybe this was meant to happen," he murmured distractedly.

"Hmm?" she asked, trying to focus on his words while also trying to capture all the sensations buffeting her at every instant.

"Well, if my mother and your father had been together as King and Queen, Teraien would have been the only one of us born—if he was even born, considering how unlikely it seems your mother would have been happy in the palace. The spiders would have overrun the wood because Teraien… no, wait… Teraien wouldn't have had any control over them, would he?"

"Legolas," she murmured sweetly, resting her cheek against his.

"Hmm?"

"Didn't I just tell you that you talk too much?"

His soft chuckle was cut off by her sudden shriek as he swept her off her feet, spinning her around until they knelt on the floor of the flet, unmindful of the papers around them that documented a life-long love that had culminated only in secrets and pain until the two young elves now joined over them had found their own way, despite the past that had tried to bind them.

They were together, despite it all.

Even as the elves of Mirkwood left those shores and went into the west, the story of the Spider-Witch was revived, though no two elves ever knew the entire true story.

* * *

If you want to read the inspiration for this story, it's the one-shot in Nea's collection (entitled 'A Moment in Immortal Time') called Goodbye. I believe it's the fifth chapter, and you can get there either by my fav authors (she's the only one, her full name is Nea's World), or by my favorite stories. The collection is in there.

And of course, a HUGE thank you to her--I've finally got it all posted, and she can stop stressing out about hoe to politely tell me what I'm trying to say hasn't made it anywhere near the page.


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